


detinent

by how_about_no



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Almost Kiss, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Monster of the Week, Pining, well up to the end of 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_about_no/pseuds/how_about_no
Summary: ‘Don’t start without me and hurt yourself, Derek.’‘Shut up.’ Derek flashed his eyes with a low growl.‘Careful, flash your eyes at me again and I’ll kiss you ‘til you drop.’It took a second for it to sink in, but when it did, Stiles stopped flipping his keys and looked heavenward. He could feel Derek looking at him, practically hear Scott’s smirk.‘Well.’ Stiles nodded awkwardly, ‘See ya!’Or5 times Stiles almost lets slip how he really feels and one time he didn't have to, with a whole lot in between.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 66
Kudos: 834





	1. Where it Starts

**Author's Note:**

> is anyone still here?
> 
> this is my quarantine hell rewatch
> 
> (title changed from 'hold your tongue'. its badly translated Latin look it up)

It started like this.

Stiles was sat in his room, flicking between pieces of homework like he would tabs of research. If he struggled with a part of one, he’d just move on to another. It was working so far, but about twenty minutes ago Stiles found himself in an endless cycle moving from one piece to another without answering anything.

Now he was nearly done.

It worked as a system, really. It meant he didn’t get bored.

Right now, he was reading through a piece of text for History again. It didn’t make sense the first few times he tried. Though that might have more to do with the time. 1am last he checked.

It was okay, though, because it was a Friday. Usually on a Friday an average teenager would be out partying, on a date, at least drinking.

Though, Stiles wasn’t exactly an average teenager. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest. The darkness around his heart wasn’t something he could physically feel but massaging it had become a habit of late. Stiles didn’t even notice himself doing it anymore.

He took a highlighter out of his mouth and ran it over a key word in the text. It seemed important. Then he stuck it back in his mouth and gagged.

‘Wrong end.’ Stiles muttered to himself, smacking his lips together and sticking his tongue out as if that would rid him of the taste.

 _’10-97- in here- can’t really see-’_ The radio Stiles had put on the police frequency crackled to life. He spun in his chair and pulled himself to where it rested on the windowsill- ’ _10-54- done a perimeter che- we’re 10-26.’_

‘Possible dead body.’ Stiles nibbled on the skin around his thumbnail. The radio turned to static and he smacked it a few times.

‘ _God, what is that smell?’_ The signal cut and a new voice came when Stiles smacked it again.

_‘10-20?’_

_‘473 Hallow Street. Back building- sent by- disturbance- 10-91V. 11-41.’_

’10-91V.’ Stiles repeated. He searched his memory. ‘Vicious animal.’ He murmured. But whoever the body was must be alive because they also sent for an ambulance. Oh God, he should be taking notes. Where was his goddamn notebook?

He wheeled quickly across the room and grabbed his book of notes for Chemistry and the nearest pen, which was a bright green highlighter. He made it back to the radio for the second voice to speak again.

_’10-45?’_

_‘We’re 10-45C. This looks- dear God- bite marks.’_

_’10-91e?’_

_‘That’s a negative. These look human.’_

Stiles wasn’t sure whether to take that as a reassurance or not. Before he could consider it further, the radio fully cut out. He was left with an anxious feeling and the sound of static.

‘Well,’ Stiles leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, ‘We had a few months peace, at least. Better text Scott.’

*

Okay, maybe that wasn’t how it started. But it was what made it start. Hearing that chatter on the radio was what led Stiles here.

He and Scott were in Derek’s loft the next day, looking at the former alpha with anticipation after relaying all the information. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man. Despite everything they had been through, and the veritable _bonding_ the group had done recently, he still managed to look like he would rather be anywhere else than in their presence.

‘It could be nothing.’ Derek said. He was a picture of calm, his book still in his lap, eyes still glued to the page. Stiles wondered if any of the words were going in. It was probably an act. He wasn’t still reading, he just wanted to show them they weren’t worth his attention. _Typical._

‘Or it could be _something_.’ Stiles countered, pointing accusingly.

‘Human bite marks aren’t our area.’ Derek slammed his book shut and stood. He looked between Stiles and Scott with his stoic mask #7, mild disdain. It was one Stiles was intimately familiar with. It wasn’t too dissimilar to stoic mask #5, disgust. There were differences. Stiles wouldn’t be able to explain them to anyone else, though. Derek’s face was just nuanced.

Stiles had only the last few months to go off what Derek’s face looked like _not_ in a life-threatening situation. In all honesty, it wasn’t that different. There were a few more smiles, sure, but Derek’s facial reaction to being told his girlfriend was a psycho killer was about the same as being told Stiles had eaten the last of his Hot Cheetos (stoic mask #4, betrayal).

‘They looked human to a bunch of cops, sure.’ Stiles looked around the loft, checking the stairs subtly for the usual creeper, before sitting down on the chair by the large table near the window, ‘My dad hasn’t texted yet, so we can’t know if they looked, _you know,_ supernatural.’

‘We don’t have to assume everything is something bad.’ Scott’s mouth twisted in the ‘ _I-don’t-want-to-piss-anyone-off-but-I’m-right’_ way, ‘but if we assume it’s not ours then it is, and it turns out we could’ve done something sooner-’

‘Jeez.’ Lydia said loudly when the loft door swung open, and she, Allison, and Isaac walked through, ‘Start without us, why don’t you.’

‘Start _what.’_ Derek said through gritted teeth.

‘Pack meeting.’ Stiles winked and leant back in the chair, resisting laughing at the poor guy’s constipated expression.

‘When has there ever been something as simple as a human killer in Beacon Hills, hm?’ Lydia said succinctly, then clasped her hands together, ‘We’re never dealing with your usual psychopath, are we?’

‘She’s right.’ Allison said. She had no visible weapons on her, but Stiles liked to play a game with himself where he guessed where they were, ‘We have to take this seriously.’

‘Supernatural until proven not.’ Stiles offered, holding his arms out. Allison leant to one side and her skirt shifted. That was _definitely_ a strap around her leg that a gun or knife could fit in. 1 point to Stiles, ‘It works as a system. We can literally never be caught off guard. It’d make a pleasant change. Don’t you think, sourwolf?’

‘I _think_ -’ Derek added emphasis to the word by crossing his arms- ‘that sounds like guilty until proven innocent.’

‘Worked with you, didn’t it?’

‘ _Stiles.’_ Scott walked all the way over to smack his arm, way too hard, thank you _very_ much. Stiles rubbed over the sore spot and glared, ‘We know this might not be our thing, but shouldn’t we check it out?’

Derek sighed.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Isaac shrugged, ‘I’ve been smelling something really weird around town. Like-’ he pursed his lips- ‘rotting.’

‘Perfect.’ Stiles gestured vaguely, ‘You know what this town has been missing? A monster made of rotting flesh. Just melting and leaving behind footprints of its own skin. We’ve had a kanima who we turned into a werewolf, alpha werewolves who have either tried to kill us or fuck us, an evil druid who _also_ tried to kill or fuck us, and now _just_ what we need is a _rotting flesh monster._ I wonder if this one is horny too. _’_

‘It’s not a rotting flesh monster.’ Scott said petulantly, but he looked like he was considering it. They all looked to Derek, who sighed again.

‘There’s no such thing.’ He stated, ‘But if you want to check it out, you should. It’s up to you.’

 _You’re the alpha._ Derek didn’t say, but Stiles could feel it in the silence that followed. He expected to see bitterness in Derek’s expression, but he just looked considering. Stiles wondered what he was thinking about. Probably puppies. Stiles bet Derek secretly thought about puppies and rainbows like, all the time.

‘I think we should.’ Scott nodded decisively. Stiles saw his eyes flick around the room, checking no one was going to argue. No one did.

‘We can’t go right up to the crime scene.’ Allison pointed out, ‘They’ve only just discovered the body, so they’ll have it cordoned off. We need to keep our distance. God knows we’ve been seen at enough crime scenes this year alone.’

‘Okay.’ Scott nodded, ‘Me and Isaac will go try scent around the body, see if there’s a trail, if it’s the same thing he’s been smelling. Allison, ask your dad if there’s anything in the bestiary about what appears like human bite marks. Derek can check his own sources. Lydia, do you think you can-?’

‘Commune with the spirits?’ Lydia tilted her head.

‘Something like that.’ Scott grimaced, then turned to Stiles, ‘Stiles, you-’

‘Go home?’ Stiles guessed.

‘You can help me research.’ Derek said, ‘It’ll take less time.’

‘Yeah,’ Stiles smirked, ‘because I’m better than you at it. Just smarter in general, right?’

Derek just rolled his eyes. He counted that as a victory.

They all nodded at each other in the weird way Allison had started doing since becoming a full-on huntress. It felt unnatural, a little dramatic, but it was easier than saying goodbye. No words. Not that Stiles minded words. He liked them a lot, in fact.

‘I’ll take Lydia home.’ Allison said as she took her exit, then Isaac and Scott looked at Stiles.

‘Fine, I’ll give you a ride.’ He flipped his keys around his fingers and headed for the door, ‘Don’t start without me and hurt yourself, Derek.’

‘Shut up.’ Derek flashed his eyes with a low growl.

‘Careful, flash your eyes at me again and I’ll kiss you ‘til you drop.’

It took a second for it to sink in, but when it did, Stiles stopped flipping his keys looked heavenward. He could feel Derek looking at him, practically _hear_ Scott’s smirk.

‘Well.’ Stiles nodded awkwardly, ‘See ya!’

*

‘Dude.’ Scott said when they got into the jeep.

‘Not a word.’

‘But, _dude.’_

Stiles checked on Isaac in the rear-view mirror, but he was staring out of window impassively.

Had Stiles really just said that? His mouth started before his brain could catch up then he was threatening to _kiss_ Derek. Since when did he want to kiss Derek anyway?

‘I know you like them mean but, _dude-’_

‘Stop saying dude!’

‘It’s Derek!’ Scott’s smile kept growing, until it was the same smug grin he wore whenever he thought he had Stiles figured out. He did _not,_ ‘You couldn’t have picked a worse person to have a crush on.’

‘I do _not_ have a crush on Derek. And you don’t choose crushes anyway, that’s not how it works. It’s actually pretty interesting, I found this article the other-’

‘Nuh uh, you’re not going to distract me.’ Scott leant against the passenger side door and pointed at Stiles. It took some power to not snap his teeth at the offending appendage. It wagged obnoxiously, ‘You have a crush on Derek! You can never keep your mouth shut when you like someone and _that_ is a fact.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Stiles denied lamely.

‘It is.’ Isaac piped up, ‘Even _I_ knew you had a crush on Lydia, before all this. You always lamented about her _to_ her.’

Stiles stared through the windscreen. _Did_ he have a crush on Derek?

The guy was good looking, sure. He had the body of an Adonis, pretty eyes, cute little bunny teeth, and brows to rival Cara Delevingne. And sure, Stiles trusted him. He could never imagine leaving him behind or not fighting by his side. They’d just been doing it for so long that it was natural. There were only so many times you could nearly die with someone before there was some kind of bond there. But that was it, right?

They weren’t exactly friends. Derek had made that perfectly clear. Sure, they spent more time together lately than ever, both trying to bring the pack together and have some semblance of organisation to their ranks, but that didn’t make them anything.

And yeah, maybe Stiles thought about him a lot. Maybe he tracked Derek’s movements when they were all at the loft. Maybe his eyes trailed down the man’s back, down his legs, back up again in time to meet his goddamn blue-grey-green eyes when he turned around.

Maybe he thought Derek was brave, braver than any of them for still fighting after everything he had been through. Maybe he thought Derek deserved all the happiness in the goddamn world. Maybe, just _maybe_ Stiles relished in the small moments where it seemed like _he_ made Derek happy, even if just for a second.

Maybe he loved spending time with the guy. Maybe he wanted to do it more, like all the time, hang out with him when he was sad, lonely, happy, mad, excited. Maybe he wanted to be close to Derek, ached whenever their arms brushed or when Derek touched his back when he moved past him. _Maybe_ Stiles _did_ want to kiss Derek until he dropped and run his fingers through his hair and trace the triskele on his spine and rest their foreheads together and breathe him in and- and-

Oh, _God._

‘Are you okay?’ Scott put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Your heart is racing.’

‘I don’t have a crush on Derek.’ Stiles said weakly.

‘It’s okay if you do, dude, I didn’t mean to be-’

‘No, Scott.’ Stiles widened his eyes meaningfully, ‘I don’t have a _crush_ on Derek.’

Scott tilted his head, face scrunching up in confusion. It took Stiles widening his eyes again and nodding before his face smoothed out and his mouth dropped open.

‘ _Oh.’_

‘This _sucks.’_ Stiles banged his head back against his headrest, ‘I’m in love with Derek goddamn Hale.’

‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.’ Isaac sighed.

*

After Stiles dropped Isaac and Scott off a suitable distance from the crime scene, he headed back to the loft with rising anxiety. If he couldn’t hide his crush on Lydia, then how could he hide what he felt about Derek? What was stopping him from just blurting it out as soon as he walked into the loft?

Talking around topics he wanted to avoid was a goddamn _gift_ Stiles was very aware he had. But, when it came to what he loved, he couldn’t hide it. His heart had always been on his sleeve.

But- but he couldn’t tell Derek.

The guy had trust issues upon trust issues and right now he barely _tolerated_ Stiles, never mind feeling the same. He hadn’t pushed Stiles into any hard surfaces lately but that was such a low bar. He couldn’t exactly read anything from that.

Stiles pushed a breath out between his teeth. He couldn’t panic about this now. They had shit to do. He could hold in his compliments. He’d never been tempted before. The first time he’d complimented Derek was _literally 20 minutes ago._ He could hold them in again. Just because he was aware now didn’t mean he was stupid.

Derek would hate him if he confessed. God, it would make him so uncomfortable. He’d just got out of a relationship with his second psychopath, for Christ’s sake.

For the health of their somewhat blossoming friendship, Stiles could keep his mouth shut. He could use his gift. It couldn’t be that hard.

It was so easy to big himself up. It was so easy and so goddamn foolish.

As soon as Stiles walked through the loft door, he knew he was fucked. He knew as soon as he took Derek in. As soon as he noticed something about him, he hadn’t noticed when he had seen him less than half an hour before. Something that would damn him right to hell.

‘ _Thumbholes.’_ Stiles stated weakly.

‘What?’ Derek was already sat on the couch, book in his hands and at least twenty more on the coffee table in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at Stiles when he didn’t respond immediately.

‘Just- uuh- nice jumper.’

Derek looked down at himself. The jumper was red, thin, and clung to all the good parts which were, well, _all the parts,_ of his chest. Then, at the end of the sleeve, right where Stiles had already lost the will to live and what little semblance of control he had, were _thumbholes._

Stiles swallowed.

‘Books!’ He shouted suddenly, moving to the coffee table, ‘Let’s read lots and _lots_ of books.’ He grabbed one at random, thought about it, and grabbed two more before heading to the table by the large window.

He put them down with a thud and took a deep breath. Derek was looking at him oddly when Stiles sat down. His eyebrows said, _‘what the hell is wrong with you?’_ but his thumbholes said, _‘hold my hand’._

Stiles thumped his head down on the table and groaned.

So, really, that was where it started. All it took was one badly timed, stupidly blurted comment, and everything Stiles thought he knew came tumbling down around him.

Sexuality? Not what you thought.

Relationship with Derek? _Buddy,_ you thought. Think again.

Chances of surviving until graduation? Very fucking slim, now.

Stiles’ love was fierce and single-minded and of course, _of course,_ his fool of a heart would fall for the one person who would never look at him again if they knew.

He sat back up again and glanced at Derek. Glanced meaning stared longingly.

Hopefully, they’d find something quickly so Stiles’ stupid thoughts wouldn’t find their way out again. He could already feel the word vomit building up in the back of his throat.

‘Are you-’ Derek paused, face pinching- ‘okay?’

 _God, I am so fucking in love with you,_ Stiles thought.

‘Peachy.’ He said instead, throwing a grin in for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone SOMEONE tell me why i nearly never see stiles gushing to derek in fics?? i wanna see him as flustered as he gets when he compliments lydia, as honest and sweet and desperate to impress.... but less needy more loving, you feel?
> 
> that's what this is... thanks
> 
> so this is set pre 3b bc i want it to be canonverse but im not the biggest fan of post 3a canon.... love nogitsune stiles but dead allison? all the trauma? nah nah nah
> 
> 10 points to whoever also knows what show 'kiss you til you drop' is from


	2. Because I-

_The Revelation,_ as Stiles had started calling it, hadn’t changed much. Only Scott acted any different. He constantly sent him texts with little heart eye emojis and edited pictures of Derek with hearts all over them. Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t save one or two. Or them all.

It’d only been a few days since they found nothing in Derek’s books. Stiles had avoided any and all interaction with the guy. When Scott went to meet with Argent, he didn’t tag along like he usually did, knowing Derek would be too. When Isaac was picked up after school in Derek’s new Toyota (bleugh), Stiles didn’t go over and bother them.

He couldn’t avoid Derek forever, and he knew that. He didn’t want to, either. He was the only person that could meet Stiles on his level. He would throw something at the guy, and he’d catch it and chuck it right back. It was liberating.

The few days freedom from trying not to say anything incriminating just fuelled Stiles further. He could keep it together. There was no way he was giving up his time with Derek just to avoid spilling feelings all over the place. Now he’d just had a breather to come to terms with it all.

According to Argent, something smelling of rotting flesh could be a Lich. A Lich was a kind of warped sorcerer that lost his humanity after practising necromancy. Stiles didn’t like how all the descriptions of these monsters never matched up with pop culture, but he could deal.

Derek shut it down, though. He said that they would know if a Lich was on their territory. They had a kind of energy that affected everything around them. He said it would be similar to how nature reacted to the Durach.

Of course, Stiles didn’t hear that directly from him. Scott relayed it. He also said Derek was wearing a pullover hoodie that looked soft to the touch which made Stiles suspicious that _he_ had a crush on him as well.

‘Dear, God, why?’ Stiles fell out of the jeep with a stumble, righting himself in time to see Isaac raise an eyebrow at him. He stuck his tongue out, ‘That scarf keeping you nice and warm, bud?’

It was wrapped obnoxiously tight around the boy’s neck, the same colour as his cardigan, and just as ugly. Stiles wondered if werewolves just ran the same heat no matter what the weather was. It wasn’t exactly cold out, after all. Even though the sun was setting behind the trees of the preserve, the air was still, and Stiles’ t-shirt was sticking to his skin.

‘Screw you.’ Isaac replied eventually.

‘You know I’m a taken man.’ Stiles drawled sarcastically without thinking, then pinched his lips together when the rest of them looked at him oddly, ‘By my left hand.’ He corrected, holding it up awkwardly. Allison raised her eyebrow from where she’d been moving things around in her trunk, and Isaac coughed into his hand, though it sounded more like a laugh.

‘Okay.’ Scott said slowly, ‘Derek said he found the scent again around here, but he couldn’t track it to the source.’

The man in question shrugged. He had his hands buried deep in his leather jacket pockets. His whole demeaner screamed ‘ _I don’t want to be here’_ , but Stiles knew to see past that now. It was just his face most of the time. He probably hadn’t relaxed properly in a long time. Stiles wondered what it would take for him to let his guard down.

The sudden image of Derek laid against his chest came to him, his breathing slow, his eyes fluttering shut. Stiles swallowed around the sudden urge to scream.

‘What did it smell like?’ Isaac asked.

‘Like death.’ Derek said, his face pinching, ‘I thought it was a dead body.’

‘Cool.’ Stiles nodded, ‘Awesome. This is a moment where I am _so_ glad I don’t have super senses.’

‘So, why are you here then?’ Isaac snarked, ‘Allison can track but you can-?’

‘You brought it, right?’ Scott asked, and Stiles closed his mouth around a mean response. He pulled the jar out of his jeans pocket. It was the size of a thimble, and had a dark yellow powder filling it halfway. He’d had the very real urge to crush it in his palm when Deaton first handed it to him. Miniature things just _begged_ to be squished. Stiles resisted, though, because he’d had strict instructions from Scott to get something to help and he’d be damned if he didn’t bring anything.

‘Deaton’s instructions were extremely clear.’ He said, ‘Which is to say they weren’t clear at all and I’m probably going to screw this up.’

‘You won’t.’ Allison said confidently, with a smile, ‘Active learning, remember.’

‘ _Active learning_.’ Stiles repeated in a mocking tone, ‘You’re actively learning how to shoot bad guys and be a bad ass, I’m learning how to sprinkle powder on things and _believe.’_

‘Different strokes for different folks.’ Derek said, totally deadpan. Stiles choked on a laugh and shook his head incredulously.

‘Oh my God.’ He said, ‘Stop being funny or I’ll-’ _fall in love with you-_ ‘hit you. For being funny. Because it’s my… job. Yeah, so, should we just get to the tracky tracking, Scott?’

‘Sure.’ Scott did a bad job of hiding his smirk and looked into the forest, ‘We need to split up. I’ll go alone but you guys should go in pairs.’

He didn’t have to say it, but it meant one human, one werewolf. It made sense to have one super sensed partner per team.

‘I’ll go with Allison.’ Isaac said before Stiles could even open his mouth.

‘Et tu, brute? What’s wrong with going with me?’

‘I thought you were _taken.’_

‘I don’t have to go with Isaac.’ Allison placated, but she looked hopeful. Her eyes kept shooting to him.

‘I’ll just go with Scott, then.’ Stiles pled with his eyes at his best friend, who nodded loyally.

‘Yeah, we-’

‘No.’ Derek said. Stiles whipped his head towards him, eyes wide, ‘We all know you’ll distract each other and end up goofing off.’

‘We would _not.’_ Stiles said petulantly, ‘Would we, Scott?’

Scott looked between him and Derek pensively. He eventually grimaced and turned an apologetic look on Stiles.

‘Sorry, dude, but he’s kind of right.’

‘No, he’s not!’

‘Remember the omega two weeks ago?’ Isaac offered.

‘It wasn’t my fault it was near an _arcade_.’

‘What about when you two were on watch for Jennifer the night after she disappeared.’ Allison tilted her head, looking right through him.

‘We were hungry. It’s a human need. It’s a necessity. It’s humanity!’

‘And the fact that you two were goofing off, and trespassing, when Scott got turned.’ Derek said, and Stiles couldn’t find a rebate for that.

Scott took off with one last grimace that said _‘sorry, dude’,_ and Allison and Isaac had already disappeared by the time Stiles turned to them.

‘Just the two of us.’ Stiles sighed. He meant for it to sound like a complaint, but it came out a little dreamy.

Derek didn’t even reply. He just looked Stiles up and down then turned and headed into the trees. Stiles patted his pocket to check for the magical powder Deaton pawned off on him and followed.

*

‘This doesn’t really make sense, you know.’ Stiles said conversationally. He stepped over a large rock with less grace than Derek had before him. Predictably, he didn’t reply.

‘Like,’ Stiles continued, unperturbed, ‘what are we expecting to find out here? If we find it, and we don’t even know what _it_ is? What are you going to do, flash your pretty blue eyes at it and hope it doesn’t attack? Maybe I’ll throw this half a teaspoon of whatever at it and _poof_ , problem solved.’

‘Stiles.’

‘Yeah-huh?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Right.’ Stiles said, nodding, ‘But seriously. What will you do? Do you think we’re going to find it? I’m seriously against dying tonight. Not like, in particular. There’s nothing special about tonight. I just- I mean I don’t want to die in general, you know? I’d just like to know the plan if we- ah!’

Stiles bumped into Derek’s back where he’d come to a dead stop.

‘What is it, lassie?’

‘There’s something-’ Derek cut off, and if he were a dog, his ears would’ve pricked up- ‘this way.’

Derek started walking and Stiles stumbled to catch up. He could see Derek’s head twitching whenever he heard something, so he decided to be a good person and stay quiet.

They walked for ten more minutes until Derek came to a stop again. Stiles didn’t recognise their surroundings, the trees so dense that it appeared like the middle of the night despite being just after sunset.

‘I can’t hear it anymore.’ Derek stated.

There was a rock formation in front of them, taller than them both and wide as a car. Stiles stepped around Derek to look at it more closely.

‘Looks kind of like a butt.’ He muttered to himself and smiled when it made Derek scoff. He crouched down at the base of it and took a breath through his nose, ‘Derek, come here.’

There was a creak of leather as Derek crouched next to him. His entire face was scrunched up as he looked at where Stiles was pointing. It was a horrible looking yellow moss. It looked almost like mould. There was a kind of dust on it that resembled pollen. Stiles wasn’t sure if moss had pollen, but it certainly didn’t seem right.

‘Is that the smell?’ Stiles asked. Derek nodded stiffly.

‘It’s the same smell but it isn’t as strong.’

‘Could the thing have rubbed off on it?’

‘There’s no smell under it. It’s the moss that smells like that.’ Derek leaned closer and sniffed again. It reminded Stiles of the videos of cats smelling wasabi, and he couldn’t help but smile.

‘So is this just moss, or does the thing-’

‘-live here.’ Derek said, ‘This isn’t as strong as what I was tracking. It’s the same but- but how could-?’ Derek cut off, frustrated.

Stiles dug the vial out of his pocket and searched around the rock. He took a few steps, eyes flicking over the surface, looking for a good spot. The moss covered the entire base. If the thing lived here, or had even been here, it must have left something behind.

There was a small groove on the opposite side to where Derek was still crouched that Stiles used to put his foot in and push himself up. He grasped the top of the rock and scrambled up. His foot skidded slightly on the side and by the time Stiles reached a flat surface, he laid on his back, out of breath.

He took a few deep breaths before moving to crawl. He patted down the surface. Maybe a piece of it would do, or a print, maybe even the moss would do if he didn’t find anything.

His hand hit something wet. He didn’t dare lift it again and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

‘Stiles?’ Derek called out. He sounded wary, but he probably just couldn’t see Stiles from where he was.

Turning his torch on, Stiles stared at his hand in horror. It was rested in some kind of grey goo. He lifted his fingers slightly and the goo stretched from the surface to his finger like glue.

When he moved his torch up, he saw that the whole other end of the rock was covered in the stuff. There were at least 10 patches of it. Some of them looked almost solid.

Then the smell hit him.

Rotting flesh.

‘Oh, God.’ Stiles gagged. That would definitely work.

‘Stiles!’ Derek shouted.

‘Just a second!’ Stiles yelled back, biting the cork off the jar and moving his hand so he could sprinkle it on the goo. He closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted to see, what he _needed_ to see.

‘For fuck’s sake.’ He heard Derek say, then suddenly he was being lifted and pulled down the rock. He whipped his head around to see the goo glow purple before his feet were hitting the ground and they were running.

‘You’re so lucky that powder works fast!’

‘You’re lucky I saved your stubborn ass.’ Derek leapt over a log and Stiles came to a stop before it to step over. He sprinted to catch up.

‘What are we running from?’ Stiles couldn’t hear anything following them, but Derek was still running, so he did too. Derek suddenly veered right, and Stiles had to windmill his arms to stop himself from falling over.

They ran for what felt like hours in silence before they reached where they’d all parked and Stiles skidded to a stop.

‘Get in.’ Derek rounded the jeep and looked behind them with wide alert eyes. He yanked at the door impatiently and Stiles scrambled for his keys.

The others’ cars were still there. Stiles wondered if whatever they were running from would go for them next. He couldn’t do anything about it for now. For now, he had to fumble with his keys to get the doors unlocked.

‘Drive.’ Derek instructed before Stiles had even shut his door.

‘ _Jesus Christ-_ ’ Stiles started to complain, but Derek slammed his hand down on the dash and shouted again.

‘Drive!’

‘What are we-’ _running from_ was how that sentence would have ended. Stiles got interrupted, though. Something had leapt onto the roof of the jeep and created a dent right in the middle. Derek and Stiles ducked down in their seats and stared up with wide eyes.

‘I told you to _drive.’_ Derek hissed.

‘I _asked_ you what we were- but you just fucking ran and I don’t-’

‘If you’d just _listened,_ we’d be-’ Derek talked over him.

‘Listen! Ha! That’s hysterical, Derek, because you never-’ Stiles interrupted as well, their voices overlapping angrily.

‘I’m the one with the-’

‘You’re listening skills are fucking abysmal, okay? You-’

‘You were in _danger-’_

‘I’m not a stupid human pet for you to-’

‘Get some survival instincts for God’s sa-’

An almighty screech shut them both up immediately. They looked up again and watched as huge fingers appeared through the jeep roof and dragged down from the back to just above their heads.

‘What do we do?’ Stiles asked desperately.

‘Run.’ Derek said. He gulped and Stiles couldn’t even be bothered to stop himself from staring at his throat because he was _scared_ okay?

‘I’ll text the others.’

**_> Scotty Boy _ **

_Thing on jeep. Big scary shouty!!!!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION_

He gulped and put his phone away.

‘Get out on three.’ Derek murmured. They both grasped their hands around the door handles, ‘1- 2-’ Their eyes met, and Stiles nodded- ‘3.’

They both leapt out of the car and ran over to Allison’s. Stiles skidded around it and crouched by the driver side’s door, and Derek leapt over it like a show-off to land next to him.

‘It hasn’t noticed.’ Stiles pointed out.

The thing was still on the roof of the jeep. It had dark, leathery skin that was hanging off around its neck. Though, you couldn’t really call it a neck. Its whole body was the same width, except long legs that were folded in half under it and arms that were currently pushing into the jeep’s roof and reaching into the backseat. The thing was huge. It curled in on itself to fit on the roof and Stiles could see a huge glob of _something_ dripping out of its mouth.

‘Why-’ Stiles stopped and lowered his voice even more- ‘Why is its mouth so small?’

‘It looked human.’ Derek answered and Stiles looked at him incredulously.

‘Just out of curiosity, have you ever seen a human?’

‘Its _mouth_ looks human.’ Derek looked like he wanted to hit Stiles in the head, but instead they both turned back to watch the thing slowly move its head around.

‘Does it know we’re not there anymore?’

‘I don’t know.’ Derek was watching the thing in awe. Stiles stared at the side of his face.

The thing moved again, its head whipping to where they were hiding behind Allison’s car. It vibrated slightly and some of its skin gave up and slid off onto the floor by the jeep. Stiles almost gagged.

There was suddenly a hand between his shoulder blades and Derek moved closer to him protectively.

‘If it comes over here, you need to run.’ He said.

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll hold it off.’ Derek’s eyes hadn’t left the creature.

‘What?’ Stiles whisper shouted, ‘You won’t stand a chance against that thing.’

‘I didn’t think I would.’ Derek finally looked at him and his eyes gave away nothing.

‘Shut the fuck up, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Yes, you are.’ Derek argued, his judging eyebrows firmly in place, like he couldn’t understand why Stiles was being stupid enough to argue.

‘No, I’m not.’ Stiles said firmly. His heart was in his throat. Just the thought of leaving here without Derek made him want to throw up. There was no way in hell.

‘Why are you so-?’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Stiles interrupted, ‘Ever. So, stop trying to sacrifice yourself. If anyone has to die here, it’ll be both of us, okay? Get it in your head that you’re not someone I will leave behind.’

‘Why?’ Derek sounded genuinely confused. It was like the idea of Stiles caring about him was ridiculous.

‘Because-’ _I love you._ The words got stuck in his throat. He blinked at Derek. The man’s eyes were boring into his and they looked so young, so _innocent_ , and Stiles could feel the confession creeping up on him, itching its way out of his mouth- ‘I-’

‘Guys!’ Scott came running up to them, Isaac and Allison not too far behind. Stiles huffed out a breath, all his energy suddenly leaving him. He fell back and sat down, putting his arms on his knees and rubbing a hand through his hair, ‘Where is it?’

‘What do you mean? It’s right-’ Stiles looked over at the jeep to find it abandoned. The creature was gone, ‘What?’

‘Are you guys okay?’ Scott asked. He pulled Stiles to his feet and started patting him down.

Stiles couldn’t believe it. How had neither of them heard the creature leave? Especially Derek, since he had the whole _werewolf hearing_ thing. It didn’t make sense.

‘Stiles?’ Allison prompted him. She looked expectant, clearly having already tried to get his attention once.

‘Did you do it?’ Scott asked, probably for the second time.

‘Purple.’ Stiles tried to remember what Deaton told him, ‘Purple means it’s pure monster. Not a shapeshifter, not a demon, no humanity.’

‘That’s not a good thing, right?’ Allison still had her crossbow held tightly in one hand at her side.

‘It means we don’t have a save it or kill it problem.’ Isaac said, ‘We can just kill it.’

That silenced them all for a moment. It did make it easier, in a way, but it still didn’t sit right with Stiles that they’d simply be looking for ways to get rid of it instead of letting it go. There’d always been a chance of saving their enemies before.

‘Roscoe.’ Stiles said quietly, running over to his jeep. He groaned when he saw the back seats had been shredded. The roof was totalled and dipped to the point he wouldn’t be able to fit in the driver’s seat anymore. He ran his fingers over the claw marks in the leather.

‘Dude.’ Scott came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, ‘This looks expensive.’

‘No shit, Scott.’

‘Leave it with me.’ Derek held his hands out for the keys, ‘I’ll give you guys a ride home’

Stiles’ fingers trailed over his palm when he handed them over, and a spark ran up his arm. He coughed awkwardly and crossed his arms.

This was so ridiculous. All it took was one vaguely threatening situation and Stiles had been ready to bear it all. Neither of them were even _injured._ Apparently, the urge to get Derek to understand his life had value in the most human way possible was stronger than Stiles’ common sense.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

Derek’s eyes were soft when he met them in the rear-view mirror of his car. He gave Stiles a soft smile. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. He knew his eyes said it all, but Derek was reliably blind, so he just turned back to the road and left Stiles to melt into the backseat.

He stared out of the window and let his mind wander. It landed on Derek, at first, but Stiles moved his thoughts swiftly away.

A human mouth, long body, living in the woods, going after humans, and moving silently. Those things Stiles could work with. The only thing that didn’t make sense was the _rotting._ Argent and Derek said there weren’t any creatures smelled of rotting flesh.

So, what if it didn’t?

What if that was an anomaly? The creature could not smell like that normally. There could be something wrong with it.

Stiles’ eyes tracked the trees as they drove.

‘Guys.’ He sat up, wide eyed, ‘I think I know what this thing is.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canonverse stuff is HARD
> 
> the characterisation, the monster hunting, the having to have a plot if its not a oneshot


	3. Tell Me What You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me why this has so much 'in car' content
> 
> you cant

‘You’re sure.’ Deaton tapped a finger against the metal table.

‘Sure as I can be with no field knowledge, yes.’ Stiles repeated. It felt as if they had been going back and forth for hours. Isaac had already sat down on the creaky chair in the corner, deeming this little gathering as not important enough to stand for.

‘But Wendigos eat their prey.’ Deaton reasoned. Stiles widened his eyes meaningfully and looked to Isaac for help. All he got was a shrug.

‘I know. Can you think of anything else that fits the MO, hm? Mr. Knowledge?’ He gestured wildly and stared as Deaton just blinked, ‘It has elongated limbs, moves silently, has a human looking mouth, and horrible leather looking skin. Am I missing anything?’

‘It smells like death.’ Isaac offered.

‘Wendigos don’t smell like death.’ Stiles and Deaton said at the same time.

‘They also don’t leave their prey alive.’ Deaton added.

‘Listen, there’s nothing else it can be, right? So, what if there’s something wrong with it. What if it’s ill, or cursed, or old.’

Deaton stopped tapping his finger. It got Stiles thinking he’d finally got through, but instead of telling Stiles he was a genius, the veterinarian simply turned around and grabbed a large crate from inside a cupboard. He dropped it on the table.

‘Jars.’ Isaac had come to stand at the edge. He peered over at the crate.

He was correct. They were, in fact, jars. All filled with dirt, or herbs, or some horrible looking liquids. They were haphazardly piled and ultimately horribly disorganised. Stiles felt ill just looking at them.

‘Yes.’ Deaton stated, ‘Jars. I need them labelled and sorted.’

‘You need-’ Stiles gaped- ‘what? What is this, like a life lesson or something? Is it a test before you’ll give us your worldly knowledge?’

‘No.’ Deaton said. And nothing else. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. God, talking to this guy was like pulling teeth.

Isaac seemed to have the same sentiment. He was looking between Deaton, the jars, and Stiles, like he was deciding when the best time to flee would be.

‘Don’t even think about it.’ Stiles said to him, and Isaac looked appropriately chastised, ‘So, you want us to organise and label these?’

‘You’re smart, Stiles.’ Deaton smiled, ‘You’ll figure it out.’

With that, Deaton left Stiles and Isaac alone with the jars.

‘Are we going to do it?’ Isaac asked glumly.

‘I think so, Isaac.’ Stiles pulled the crate closer to himself and sighed. It was going to be a long day.

*

‘What about this one?’ Stiles held the jar under Isaac’s nose. It had a sludgy green liquid in it. Well, it was more jello-like.

‘Smells earthy.’ Isaac said after a hearty sniff. Stiles nodded and flicked to the page in Deaton’s book on green magic. Though the man hadn’t said it, Stiles had started referring to the book as a ‘book of shadows’. He knew Deaton wasn’t a witch. It made a better title than ‘Deaton’s book of mystical bullshit’.

Stiles had all the jars spread out around him, a pen in his mouth, and the book in his lap. He and Isaac were sat on the floor in the backroom with the cats. They’d hissed at the werewolf as they’d come in, but swiftly calmed down when they realised he wasn’t going to eat them.

‘Time’s’it?’

‘Four.’ Isaac had his tongue between his teeth in concentration. Since he was the nose, and Stiles was the brain, he’d been given the mighty task of writing the labels and sticking them on the lids while Stiles identified. He flicked his pen once, twice, then took the one out of Stiles’ mouth.

They only had a few jars left, but it had been hours at this point. Each jar took at least 15 minutes to identify, and there’d been twenty of them, total. Stiles figured this was some kind of learning exercise for him.

Deaton had been doing that a lot, lately. Stiles would come with some questions and end up leaving with even more, plus some kind of rock, or spell, or jar of dirt that Deaton insisted helped somehow. It was almost like he was being tutored. Deaton was far too mysterious and vague to be something as simple as a tutor, though.

Twenty minutes later found them done and carrying the crate out to the front desk where Deaton was clicking through his computer with a serene look on his face.

Stiles slammed the crate down.

‘We’re going to go save Beacon Hills, now.’ Stiles said.

‘Hm.’ Deaton stood, looking into the crate. His eyes stopped on one of the labels and he pulled the jar out and handed it to Stiles. It looked like it contained mixed herbs. It was also the smallest of the bunch, about half the size of Stiles’ palm.

If Stiles were a betting man, he’d say that someone would end up putting it on their food if he left it out in his kitchen. He’d bet on his dad, too.

‘Amplification.’ Stiles read as he took it.

‘Yes.’ Deaton said, ‘I trust you’ll use it wisely.’

‘I’d use it to amplify your answers,’ Stiles waved the jar, ‘but I have a feeling it would just make you even _more_ vague.’

‘Good luck, Stiles.’

Isaac had to push him out of the building before Stiles said something quite unsavoury about Deaton’s _luck_ and where he could shove it.

‘Did you text Scott?’ Stiles threw the jar up in the air and caught it easily before shoving it in his front jean pocket and looking to Isaac, who was shuffling his feet guiltily. He grimaced when Stiles’ casual look turned into a glare, ‘Why do you look guilty?’

‘If it helps, it was Scott’s idea.’

‘What was Scott’s idea?’ Derek said, apparating from fucking _nowhere,_ right by Stiles’ ear.

‘ _Oh,_ my God!’ He yelped, ‘A bell! I am getting you a bell and by _God_ , you are going to wear it _every time_ you plan on coming anywhere near me!’

‘Don’t be so dramatic.’ Derek rolled his eyes, ‘Isaac said you needed a lift.’

‘Scott is meant to be coming in Melissa’s car.’ Stiles glared over his shoulder at where Isaac was still stood with a slightly guilty tilt to his shoulders. His eyes were alit with mirth, though, so Stiles took pleasure in his glare. He imagined a laser going right through the guy’s head.

Derek looked around the parking lot. He even put a hand over his eyebrows and squinted his eyes.

‘Huh.’ He said eventually, ‘Looks like Scott’s not here. Guess you’ll have to ride with me.’

‘Oh, I’ll ride with you alright.’ Stiles muttered angrily as he stalked over to Derek’s car.

Not having his jeep was killing him slowly. He’d had to get lifts _everywhere,_ from Scott, Lydia, Allison, his dad, but he had avoided getting one from Derek since their encounter with the wendigo. His mouth was _doing things_ without his brain’s permission.

Like now, all Stiles wanted to do as they climbed into the car was comment on Derek’s t shirt stretching over his biceps. He actually _ached_ with the urge. His lips were pressed together so hard he was sure they’d bleed.

Derek put his arm around the passenger seat Stiles had somehow ended up in (thanks, Isaac) and looked behind him to reverse out of his space. The heat from his arm hit the back of Stiles’ neck. It probably wasn’t close enough to do so. Stiles could feel it anyway. He swallowed around more loving words and closed his eyes.

Maybe if he couldn’t see Derek, he wouldn’t say anything.

‘Stiles?’ Derek prodded his shoulder, ‘Don’t sleep in here. Tell me what Deaton said.’

‘Nothing helpful.’ Stiles said, keeping his eyes resolutely shut. He counted to ten in his head.

‘We organised his jars.’ Isaac said. He sounded like a child in elementary school talking about a finger painting they’d done. If anyone confronted him about it, Stiles would deny the swell of his heart. He wasn’t fond. Like, at all.

‘Okay.’ Derek said slowly, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Hm?’ Stiles could tell it was directed at him. He stopped swaying his head and furrowed his eyebrows. _Act normal,_ ‘Lovely weather we’re having.’

‘What?’

_Too normal._

‘I-uh- I have a jar. In my pocket.’ Even with his eyes closed, Stiles could tell both occupants of the car were staring at him incredulously, ‘I’m not just excited to see you. Ha. Uh- I don’t-’

‘Thanks, Derek.’ Isaac said, and Stiles felt the car roll to a stop as the boy jumped out. There was laughter in his voice. Stiles _hated_ it.

‘Open your eyes.’ Derek commanded once they were moving again.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Stiles.’ Derek sighed.

‘I like them closed.’ Stiles sniffed the air dramatically, ‘I can feel all my other senses heightening. Is that new aftershave?’

 _God, that smells good,_ Stiles thought, but managed not to say.

‘Just open them.’

‘No.’

‘Stiles-’

‘I don’t want to!’

‘You’re freaking me out, Stiles.’

‘That’s not new.’

‘Oh, for fu-’

The car suddenly jolted forward, and Stiles’ eyes snapped open automatically. He grasped the first things within reach, the door handle with his right hand, and Derek’s arm with his left. He stared at it with wide eyes.

‘Dude!’ Stiles snatched his hand away and looked out the windscreen to see what they’d braked for, ‘There’s nothing there!’

‘I know.’ Derek raised his eyebrows.

‘You just nearly killed me, so I’d open my eyes?’ Stiles resolutely kept his eyes on Derek’s, not letting them stray to anywhere more dangerous.

‘I didn’t nearly kill you.’ Derek huffed, and started them moving again. It was tempting to just close his eyes again, but Stiles knew better. They’d just be jolting and starting again until they reached the house. Derek could be stubborn sometimes.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

‘What’s up with you?’ Derek asked after a few moments of blissful, _blissful_ silence. Not that Stiles’ brain had been quiet.

‘What’s up with _you?’_

Derek looked sideways at him, sighed, then pulled the car over.

‘What are you doing? Get with the drivey drivey. Won’t get home in time to harass my dad about his intake for the day if we’re stationary.’

‘You’ve been acting-’ Derek stalled for a moment, looking at the roof of the car as if for inspiration- ‘weird.’

‘Weird.’ Stiles repeated blandly. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and slouched further down in his seat. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious.

Okay, he had.

He just didn’t think Derek would notice.

‘I don’t- just stop it. It’s freaking me out.’

‘I’m freaking you out?’ Stiles scoffed, ‘ _I’m_ freaking _you_ out?’

‘Yes.’ Derek stated. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, _well?_

‘You don’t get to be freaked out! I’m the one who’s freaked out, here!’

‘Why?’

Stiles shouldn’t say it. He _really_ shouldn’t say it. Something about direct questions made him squirm, though. Especially when it was something he wanted to say. He _wanted_ to say it. More than he’d wanted to say anything in his life.

‘You don’t want to know.’ He eventually said instead of the rant of _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ in his head.

‘I do, actually.’ Derek tilted his head, patient.

‘You don’t.’

‘I do.’

‘You really, really don’t.’

‘I really, _really do.’_ Derek said, then did the worst thing he could’ve _possibly_ done. He put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. It encompassed the whole joint, warm and comforting, sending a shock through all of Stiles. He slammed his head back on the headrest and resisted shouting.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, Hale.’ Stiles dared to look at the man beside him and was floored by the earnest look in his eyes. He looked concerned. Outright _worried,_ ‘My whole world has been turned on its head, you know that? I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted, what I _didn’t_ want.’ Stiles gasped a breath when Derek’s hand moved from his shoulder to the side of his neck.

‘Go on.’ Derek implored. Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d got closer, or if the car had got smaller, but suddenly breathing was a fucking _task._

‘I’m trying to be selfless, here.’ Stiles laughed awkwardly, ‘It’s- I-’

‘Stiles.’ Derek was frowning now, confusion creasing his forehead and pulling on his lips. His eyes flicked between Stiles’ like he would find the answer there.

He probably would if he looked long enough. Stiles knew what was there when he looked at Derek. He saw it in Scott when he used to talk about Allison. He saw it in his dad when he talked about his mom. He saw it in the mirror when he caught himself thinking about what this could be.

It was love. Pure, unadulterated. He wished Derek would see it. He prayed that one day Derek would look in his eyes and see the love there, see how much Stiles adored him, and embrace it.

He wouldn’t, though.

Stiles would have to say it. He knew that. This man, who’d put his heart on his sleeve and had it ripped in two more than once, would never assume love when it could be nothing. He deserved someone who _knew,_ someone who could look after him, support him, be stable enough to nurture him like he deserved.

That wasn’t Stiles. He was just as much of a mess.

‘ _Stiles.’_ Derek said again, and there was almost a crack there, right in the middle.

‘You deserve so much.’ Stiles whispered into the air between them. Derek’s thumb swept a line of fire over Stiles’ jaw. It was almost like he felt it too. Like he was thinking the same thing Stiles was.

_I love you._

‘So do you.’ Derek said, like it was simple.

‘Derek-’ Stiles breathed.

 _‘So tell me what you want, what you really really want-’_ Came trilling from Stiles’ back pocket. He pulled away from Derek’s hand and pushed himself against the passenger side door, gasping in a breath. He closed his eyes for a second before pulling the phone out of his pocket.

Derek was still looking at him when he answered. Stiles didn’t dare decipher the expression on his face.

‘Lydia?’ Stiles recognised the ragged breaths on the other end of the line, ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s happened again.’ Her voice was teary. Stiles immediately sat up straight, alert, ‘I was going to the mall to meet Allison and- and I-’

‘You ended up somewhere else.’ Stiles guessed. He looked to Derek, who nodded, ‘Where are you?’

Just like that, the moment was over, and Stiles was thanking whatever powers may be that they had decided to stop him from _once again_ nearly confessing.

*

By the time they pulled up outside the address Lydia gave them, police were already swarming. Stiles jumped out and ran over to where Lydia was resting against the bonnet of the car labelled ‘sheriff’.

‘Hey.’ He said, somehow out of breath just from the 20-foot run, ‘You okay?’

Lydia was hugging her jacket around her torso, staring into the abandoned building beside her like she’d seen a ghost. Though, Stiles guessed, she kind of had.

‘You’re here to give her a ride home?’ His dad asked, his face saying _you showing up at crime scenes is doing my head in._

‘Yeah, of course. What happened?’

‘What do you think?’ Lydia drawled. She rolled her head to look at him and pursed her lips, ‘Are you going to yell at me for calling the police first.’

‘No.’ Stiles said weakly, ‘No!’ He repeated with more conviction when both Lydia and his dad gave him the same disappointed look.

‘You think this is the same thing?’ His dad asked quietly. There were a few deputies loitering around another car, and others rounding the building with their torches out, the sun setting behind them.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time we had two supernatural creatures at once, but surely we can get lucky this time.’ Stiles put his hands on his hips and stared with his mouth open at the building as if he could smell or taste the wendigo.

‘It’s the same thing.’ Derek said from behind him, appearing silently _again,_ ‘I can smell it.’

‘Bell!’ Stiles shouted needlessly. He received plain looks in return.

‘This is serious, kids.’ His dad looked at the three of them individually.

‘Derek isn’t exactly a _kid.’_ Stiles pointed out.

‘Don’t remind me.’ His dad shook his head.

‘What does that mean?’ Stiles muttered as his dad continued.

‘That first girl is still under in hospital. She could live. This?’ He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, ‘Now it’s killed someone. I know we’ve seen this before, that it doesn’t feel like a big deal but-’

‘It is, dad.’ Stiles clasped his dad’s arm, ‘We know.’

‘We know what it is, now.’ Derek said, ‘So we can find out how to kill it.’

His dad’s mouth twisted at the word _kill._ He was still adjusting to the blasé world of the supernatural. Every time someone said ‘werewolf’, ‘durach’, ‘alpha’, ‘pack’, or anything, really, he’d get this look on his face like he’d stepped in something funky. Stiles made an effort to talk about it as much as possible. It was partly because the more he said it, the more desensitised his dad would become. It was also partly because the face was entertaining.

‘It’ll be okay.’ Lydia reassured him. She gave the sheriff a small smile that reminded Stiles why he was in love with her for so long. He was wistful for it. He could say whatever he wanted to her. All it did was boost her ego, and he knew she would’ve said something if he made her truly uncomfortable. He wished for a moment that he still felt that way.

‘No one else will die.’ Derek promised, and Stiles stopped wishing. There was no way he’d give up his love now that he knew he had it.

‘Right.’ His dad said. Stiles moved his eyes away from the side of Derek’s face to meet his dad’s eyes. There was something in them. It was _knowing._ The tick in the corner of his mouth said, _we’re going to be talking about this._

‘Okay, Lydia, ready to go home?’ Stiles clapped his hands together, startling everyone except his dad.

‘We’ll need you to come to the station tomorrow to give a formal statement.’ The sheriff said to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and ducked his head to look her in the eye, ‘You’ve given me enough for now. Just get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Okay.’ Lydia nodded slowly, lifting herself from the bonnet, ‘Thank you, sheriff.’

She looked a little unsteady on her feet, so Stiles put an arm around her shoulders as they walked away. He threw a thumbs up over his shoulder at his dad.

‘I’ll be home in time to make you roasted veggies.’

‘Oh, joy.’ His dad muttered. Stiles chose to ignore it in favour of guiding Lydia to the backseat of Derek’s car. He patted her head slightly as he pulled his arm away and slammed the door.

‘So,’ Stiles started after what he deemed an appropriate amount of silence into the drive, ‘What did the body look like?’

‘Dead.’ Lydia commented drily.

Stiles turned in his seat to glare at her.

‘Specifically.’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘Leave her alone, Stiles.’ Derek said.

‘Same as you described the other.’ Lydia stated primly, staring out of the window, her hands clutching her sides, ‘Bite marks that looked human. It was almost whole. I thought wendigos ate all of their pray.’

‘You wouldn’t be the only one.’ Stiles turned back around, sticking his tongue out when Derek met his eyes. The man just rolled his eyes in response.

Stiles sat back in his seat and stared out the window. He realised they were heading towards Lydia’s house, despite the fact that it was on the way to the loft, and it would’ve been quicker to take Stiles first.

He glanced at Derek and found him staring resolutely at the road. Weird. Maybe he hadn’t thought about it. Maybe he just wanted to make sure Lydia got home sooner, since she seemed upset.

Or maybe… maybe he-

No. Stiles couldn’t let himself go down that route. This had nothing to do with him and Derek. Nothing at all.

He rubbed a hand over his chest absent-mindedly. Then he stopped. He glanced down at his hand, thinking about the darkness, the nemeton, that Deaton called it a beacon.

‘Stiles?’ Derek broke through his thoughts, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘What if the reason it smells like death is because of us? The reason it doesn’t eat its prey?’

‘What do you mean?’ Lydia leant forward; her sombreness abandoned in favour of new information.

‘We activated the nemeton, right? Deaton said it was like a beacon for all things supernatural. That more things would come here because of it.’

‘You think the nemeton-’ Derek started.

‘-has warped the wendigo somehow.’ Stiles finished. He blinked at Derek, who was the first to break their staring and look back at the road.

‘If the nemeton warped it, that could be where it lives.’ Lydia pointed out.

‘But that rock me and Derek found was covered in its skin, like it’d been sleeping there. It had lived there for long enough that whatever is making it _wrong_ has affected the moss on the rock too. It’s like it’s diseased. It could be dying already.’

‘But it’s getting more violent.’ Derek said, ‘It didn’t kill the first time, but now it has.’

‘Lydia, did you call Scott?’ Stiles asked, looking in the rear-view mirror.

‘No, I just called you.’

‘Wow.’ Stiles smirked at Derek, ‘We sure I’m not the alpha?’

Derek just sighed.

 _‘What’s up?’_ Scott answered on the third ring.

‘Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?’ Stiles said.

_‘What?’_

‘You just answered the phone. A year ago, I would’ve got your voicemail even if I was _dying.’_

_‘Way to bring up bad memories, dude.’_

‘Sorry, man.’ Stiles picked at the knee of his jeans, ‘Anyway, Lydia found a dead body and we think the nemeton has warped the wendigo to make it loco.’

_‘Woah, rewind. There’s another dead body? Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?’_

‘I’m telling you.’

_‘True.’_

‘I don’t really know what to do with the information yet, but I thought I’d let you know. Because I love you.’

_‘I love you too, man.’_

Derek shot him a sideways glance. It was judging, almost, but it sided more with bitter. Stiles didn’t know what to do with that information either.

‘But I also _hate_ you.’ Stiles added, remembering the lift incident from earlier, which led up to him almost confessing _again._

_‘Wait, what? Why?’_

‘You _know_ why.’ Stiles hissed. He hung up as Scott’s laughter filled his ear.

‘You’re weird.’ Derek said plainly, smiling slightly.

‘ _You’re_ weird.’ Stiles said. _I love you,_ he thought.


	4. Dinner With the In-Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I wrote this in one sitting. I'm already sorry

Despite the urgency of the night Lydia called, Beacon Hills was quiet for the next few weeks. Stiles managed to do homework without being interrupted, he got enough sleep, didn’t drink too much caffeine, and spent far too much time with Derek.

The guy was suddenly _everywhere._ He insisted on giving Stiles a ride to and from school, since his car was still out of commission, and frustratingly _chatty_ during the journeys. He mentioned some books he had come across recently, and would Stiles like to read them? He pointed out a new takeaway that had opened a few blocks down from him, and did Stiles think the pack would want to go round to the loft to try it?

He was so frustratingly _there_ that Stiles had managed to put his foot in his mouth more often than he had with his entire infatuation with Lydia.

_‘Is that a new jacket?’ Stiles asked. It was dark denim and almost too tight around Derek’s shoulders. He looked down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed._

_‘Yeah. I thought I’d try something new.’_

_‘You should try something new more often. Stiles like-y.’ Stiles said and immediately buried his head in his hands until they mercifully arrived at the school._

_‘Don’t you have anything better to do with that mouth than piss me off?’ Derek growled at him one night at the preserve, when Stiles had been talking just a little more than usual._

_‘Oh, I can think of so many better things to do with my mouth.’ The salacious wink escaped on impulse and Stiles tried not to let the regret show on his face._

_‘The entire debate is ridiculous.’ Derek said, gesturing at the TV in the loft with a dismissive hand, ‘Stark only wants the accords because of his own petty guilt. He’s a war profiteer and an asshole.’_

_‘Oh, my God.’ Stiles gaped from his place on the floor by Derek’s legs, ‘I’ve never wanted you more.’_

That last one managed to escape everyone’s notice, because Stiles quickly followed it with a laugh that meant it could be assumed a sarcastic comment. He was getting worse, though. Each day he had these feelings and didn’t tell Derek about them was another day they simmered beneath the surface. It was only a matter of time before they boiled over.

There wasn’t a plan here, really. Stiles didn’t want to tell him, but he did. He wanted Derek to know but didn’t. He trusted Derek with the truth but didn’t want to burden him with it.

It was a dilemma.

One Stiles was planning on contemplating over hot Cheetos and a shitty 90s movie marathon. He found a load of DVDs in his mom’s room a few years ago and turned to them when he didn’t know what to do.

It either made him totally zone out and come to conclusions about his life, or end with him sobbing into his bag of chips wondering why he wasn’t in a lifetime movie where a boy loved him and played a boombox outside of his window.

‘ _I like big butts and I cannot lie_ ,’ Stiles sang to himself as he walked up his driveway, paper bag full of junk food under his arm. His dad’s cruiser was parked outside, so avoidance of his food being snatched would be necessary, ‘ _you other brothers can’t deny. When a lady walks in with an itty-bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get_ -’ He swung the door open and snapped his mouth shut- ‘Derek.’

‘Hey, Stiles.’ Derek smiled at him, something he’d been doing a lot lately, from where he was stood with the Sheriff at the dining room table. There were files strewn across it and a few empty beer bottles on the counter behind them.

‘Derek.’ Stiles repeated dumbly. He shoved the door shut with his foot and clutched the bag of goods to his chest, ‘In my dining room. Derek’s in my house. He’s- why is Derek in my house? Did you use the front door?’

‘What else would he use?’ His dad looked at him oddly, and Derek’s eyes widened comedically.

‘Nothing.’ He and Stiles said at the same time. They glared at each other.

‘Why are you here?’ Stiles snapped. It was rude, sure, but he was _not_ in the right state of mind to monitor his mouth today. He was _tired_ and lonely and just wanted to watch movies in his underwear.

‘He’s helping me look through some old cases.’ His dad rubbed his thumb and forefinger on his temples, ‘I want to know which I could’ve done something about, and which were- you know.’

‘Supernaturally inclined.’ Stiles offered. He earned a glare from his dad and a plain look from Derek. He smiled at them both, ‘Well, I don’t think I’m needed for that so I’m just gonna skedaddle to my-’

Before he could get two steps up, his dad said his name in a way that made him pause.

‘You have two options.’ The Sheriff said, ‘You can either stay down here, and make dinner for us all-’ Stiles groaned dramatically, leaning his head back and staring balefully at the ceiling- ‘or-’ his dad said loudly over the noise- ‘me and Derek will order pizza, and you can’t have any.’

‘Would you get vegetables on the pizza?’ Stiles asked pleadingly.

He just wanted _out._ He couldn’t see his dad and Derek interact. They got along so _well,_ and it just led to daydreaming about them being a unit, Stiles and Derek together, his dad shaking his head fondly at them and calling Derek _‘son’._ It wasn’t healthy. He couldn’t do it.

‘Probably not.’ His dad said. He and Stiles stared at each other. Stiles gripped the bannister and narrowed his eyes. His dad simply smirked at him. He knew he had already won.

‘Fine!’ Stiles yelled and stormed down the steps and into the kitchen. He shoved his bag down onto the side and grabbed a pack of Reese’s cups from the top. He tore into the packaging and stuffed an entire cup in his mouth.

His dad and Derek started their conversation up again behind him. There were some turkey breasts in the fridge that Stiles could make something with. He made a point of chewing with his mouth open as he got everything he needed.

‘Don’t worry, Sheriff.’ Derek said placatingly. Stiles could imagine the look on his face, all downturned eyebrows and sincere eyes, ‘I’ve seen how law enforcement handles these kinds of things, and you’ve probably got the largest success rate, all things considered.’

‘Thank you.’ His dad sighed, ‘And call me John, please.’

‘No problem-’ Derek hesitated- ‘John.’

 _God,_ Stiles could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Let’s see if we can’t get through all these before dinner, son.’

Stiles choked on the chocolate goodness still stuck in the back of his throat and pounded on his chest. _Son?_ What the fuck! Air wasn’t coming and the walls were closing in and that, there, is that a bright shining light?

Stiles eventually stopped coughing and turned to see two pairs of eyes staring at him with amusement.

‘Sorry, just-’ Stiles waved an arm vaguely- ‘just a lot of- uh- dust. In the room. I’m very sensitive to it. Got a throat like a kitten.’ He squinted, judging himself immensely.

‘Alright.’ His dad said slowly. He looked at Stiles, then at Derek, and raised his eyebrows. It looked like he was going to say something, but he turned back to the table instead and picked up a file.

Derek looked at him for a moment longer. Stiles tried for a winning smile, and Derek smiled slightly back, his eyes flicking down.

‘You’ve got-’ He bared his teeth, and Stiles frowned, running his tongue across his own. He tasted chocolate.

‘Oh, _God.’_ Stiles grimaced and turned quickly around, pushing his tongue over his teeth frantically, his blush burning on his cheeks and neck.

Great, just great. This evening was going to be _great._

*

The silence was heavy and foreboding at the table. Stiles could feel all the unsaid words between himself and Derek, and him and his dad. The tension probably didn’t seem as thick to the other two men. They were simply eating their food and making the odd appreciative noise.

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he could take it.

‘So, Derek.’ He said, then pursed his lips. He hadn’t actually thought of anything to say, it had just come out.

‘Yes?’ Derek raised his eyebrows.

‘You ever thought about becoming a deputy?’ He said after a moment. It was something he’d thought about before, actually. Derek was always helping out at crime scenes when his dad thought no one was looking, and he had inside knowledge on all the supernatural that no one else on the force had. It would make sense for him to actually work there.

Stiles was full of good ideas, despite popular belief.

‘No.’ Derek’s eyes slid to his dad before falling to his plate.

‘Instead of looking over files at the house, you could actually be involved.’ Stiles shoved a forkful of turkey in his mouth, ‘Then, like, it’d be easier to figure this stuff out. I wouldn’t need my radio-’ Stiles dragged the ‘o’ out when his dad stared at him- ‘oactive superpowers. You know, like my sixth sense. For supernatural things. Have we looked that up? I could be something. Like a psychic.’

‘I used to want to become a police officer.’ Derek mercifully didn’t mention the radio the Sheriff wasn’t meant to know about and pushed a stick of asparagus around his plate.

‘Why didn’t you?’ Dad asked. He took a sip of his beer and Stiles watched as Derek steeled himself. If they were a couple, Stiles would have reached under the table and grabbed his hand, squeezed it in support. But they weren’t. Instead, Stiles clenched his fist on his lap and took another mouthful.

‘After the fire, I wasn’t really thinking about a career.’ Derek answered eventually, ‘We were on the run so long that I didn’t have time to settle on anything. I just took whatever job would get me by.’

‘What have you done?’ Stiles asked curiously. His dad gave him a scathing look, but Derek just hummed in thought.

‘A bartender, in Montana, New York, and Virginia. I was a barista in more states than I could count, in probably over a dozen different cafés,’ Derek shook his head, like it was a bad memory. Stiles could imagine being a barista would be a nasty experience, ‘I worked in a few libraries, too, in North Dakota and Florida. I did an online degree in library science, but it only ever qualified me to help out a little, you’d need a master degree to actually be a librarian.’

‘You as a librarian.’ Stiles looked him up and down, ‘Throw on a pair of glasses and that’s practically a porno.’

‘Stiles.’ Dad said harshly.

‘Sorry.’ Stiles slumped in his chair, biting on his thumbnail. Stupid _mouth._

‘Werewolves don’t need glasses.’ Derek pointed out, a slight smirk on his face, ‘I worked in a couple stores as well, being a retail assistant. Nothing career heavy, or noticeable. It was all about being able to blend in, not draw attention.’

‘No werewolf lawyers?’ Stiles asked.

‘Probably,’ Derek shrugged, ‘but that was never really an option for me.’

‘You should think about it.’ The Sheriff said with a small smile, ‘You’d be a real asset to the force.’

‘Thank you, John.’ There was a slight blush on Derek’s cheeks, and Stiles did all he could to not reach across the table and smoosh them together.

‘That uniform.’ Stiles raised his eyebrows appreciatively, imagining Derek in the khaki shirt and pants, a gun holster on his hip and aviators on the bridge of his nose, ‘You’d show up all the other deputies.’

‘Thanks.’ Derek said smugly. He was practically preening. Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to regret letting that one slip, since the blush was deeper, and his smile was wider.

*

‘No way!’ The Sheriff shouted, and Stiles turned from where he was washing the dishes. He’d volunteered, since spending more time with both his dad and Derek was detrimental for the condition of his heart.

They were currently sat in the living room on opposite ends of the couch, arguing about baseball. Or, well, Derek’s lack of interest in it.

‘Sorry, John.’ Derek replied, laughter in his voice, ‘I used to play when I was a kid, but I was more about basketball. I had an advantage in agility.’

‘Isn’t that cheating?’ Dad asked, teasing.

‘It’s just my genes.’ Derek replied in the same tone, ‘I can’t help that.’

Stiles scrubbed extra vigorously at the mark on the plate he was holding. That teasing voice would haunt his dreams. Every _goddamn_ night. There was no guarantee he would ever sleep again, actually. He would sooner die.

Death by Derek Hale, his tombstone would say.

No, Death by Derek Hale Getting Along With My Dad.

Well, that was a bit of a mouthful. Not as catchy. Stiles could work on it while he wasn’t sleeping later.

‘Stiles?’ His dad’s voice was suddenly only a few feet away, and Stiles whirled around to find Derek near the door and his dad in the archway to the kitchen with a knowing look on his face, ‘Derek has to go. I thought you’d want to say goodbye.’

‘Why would I?’ Stiles said too quickly, too loud. He put the plate on the drying board and wiped his hands on his jeans.

‘No reason.’ His dad stopped him from getting past with a hand on his elbow, ‘No funny business. You’re still a minor.’

‘Dad, he can _hear you.’_ Stiles whined, pulling out of his grasp and going to the door.

He found Derek standing with his hands in his pockets and an amused smile on his face.

‘Don’t.’ Stiles warned, but it came out more exasperated than commanding, so Derek didn’t even flinch.

‘No funny business.’ Derek repeated, looking at Stiles as if he would try anything. If his tone wasn’t teasing, Stiles would panic that he’d given himself away. Instead, he scoffed and opened the door.

‘See you later, bud.’ He grinned, wide and fake, while Derek rolled his eyes.

The man walked through the door, but before Stiles could shut it, he walked back through. When Stiles glared at him, he exited again. Then walked backwards back into the house.

‘What are you doing?’ Stiles gripped the door with growing frustration.

‘Just making sure you see this.’ Derek walked forward and backwards again, his face serious, like he was conducting an experiment.

‘See _what?’_

‘Me,’ Derek said, finally stopping on the front porch and smirking at Stiles, stood sideways, ‘using the front door. I wanted to make sure you knew I was capable.’

Silence fell. Stiles was shocked into _silence._ A rare, but possible, scenario, entirely dependent on Derek making a full-on _joke._ There were the small comments he’d made before, but this was a _bit._ Derek had done a bit.

Death By Derek Hale Doing a Bit.

‘You’re a little shit.’ Stiles laughed, tempted to slam the door on Derek’s smug face, ‘You can’t be funny.’

‘I can.’ Derek blinked at him, feigning innocence, ‘Why can’t I?’

‘Because-’ _I already love you enough-_ ‘that’s my job. We’ve been over this, right?’

‘Right.’ Derek’s shoulders slumped slightly. He looked out into the dark street. Stiles felt like he missed something, some kind of cue. Had he said something wrong? Derek looked outright forlorn, and that just wouldn’t do.

‘I’m going to do something.’ Stiles stepped out onto the porch, his heart in his throat, ‘Feel free to shove me away and tell me to never do it again.’

The other man didn’t respond. At least, not with words. He swallowed audibly and watched as Stiles came closer. He didn’t run or punch Stiles in the face, though, so that was a good sign.

It was now or never.

Stiles stopped a breath away from Derek, then raised his arms and wrapped them around the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him in and burying his head in his shoulder.

There was a moment of still, where Derek’s whole body tensed up, before his arms came up and hugged Stiles’ waist. It was warm, and quiet, and everything Stiles had been hoping it was.

Stiles was fairly sure they’d never done this before.

Hugged. Stiles and Derek, hugging.

It just wasn’t something Derek did, as a general rule. He hadn’t even seen it happen when Cora was around.

It seemed like something the man needed.

God, everything about him screamed, _I need a hug._

So, Stiles relished in it. He held Derek close to him and smooshed his cheek against that goddamn leather jacket, squeezing with all the affection he could.

Derek’s hands gripped Stiles’ hoodie and his head fell into the crook of his neck.

They stayed like that for a moment, two, three.

It was Stiles who pulled away first.

He put his hands on Derek’s shoulders and leaned only far enough away that their breaths didn’t sync. Even in the orange light of the porch, Stiles could see every colour in Derek’s eyes. He felt the man’s hands curl tighter in the material on his back and held in a gasped breath.

How easy would it be to lean forward? How easy would it be to kiss the ever-loving _life_ out of Derek Hale, right now, in this moment?

‘Derek.’ Stiles said.

He knew what the following words were. The words that clawed at his throat in their effort to escape.

Derek stared at him with the same raw intensity that was new only a few weeks ago. It was like being engulphed in flames. How anyone could not fall in love with the man in front of him, Stiles had no idea.

‘Derek.’ Stiles voice broke this time, and he was sure this was it. This was where it happened. His confession, the fracture of their fragile friendship, the end of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, the dream team, ‘You’re a good hugger.’

The tension broke, and Derek stepped away, suddenly looking bashful. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked around them, like he had only just remembered they were technically in public.

Stiles matched his posture. _God,_ he was such a coward. It felt like lying, keeping this to himself. But he knew they would be better off in the end.

‘Thank you.’ Derek said after a few too many seconds of awkward silence. It sounded loaded, like it was about so much more than the hugging compliment.

‘You’re welcome.’ Stiles replied, barely a whisper.

Between one blink and the next, Derek was gone, and Stiles huffed out a breath. If it were a cold night, the mist the warmth would have created could’ve felt satisfying. Instead, Stiles’ breath disappeared as soon as it escaped, and all Stiles felt was alone.

He headed back into the house and shut the door, leaning against it with his head tilted back and eyes closed.

‘So,’ Stiles peaked one eye open to see his dad stood with his arms crossed in the archway to the living room, ‘Are we going to talk about that?’

‘About what?’ Stiles knew his confused and innocent act never worked on his father, but it was worth a try.

‘Stiles.’ His dad sighed.

‘Okay!’ Stiles caved, on a cowardly roll and apparently unwilling to let it end, ‘I’m in love with him, okay? I’m in love with Derek Hale! He’s smart, loyal, hot like _burning,_ brave, and now apparently _funny as Hell._ So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch _You’ve Got Mail_ and wallow into a bag of hot Cheetos. You can judge me tomorrow.’

‘Son.’ His dad walked over to where Stiles breaths were quickly becoming shallow and panicked, ‘I’m not judging you. This isn’t something you chose, is it?’

‘If I could choose someone to fall in love with, Derek Hale would be the last on my list, okay?’ Stiles fell back against the door and slid down. He put his forearms on his knees and rested his head in his hands, staring at the floor and trying to get his breath back.

Of course, he wouldn’t have chosen Derek. The guy was the worst possible person Stiles could have fallen in love with. He was older, a werewolf, and so out of Stiles’ league it was comical.

No, Stiles wouldn’t have chosen to fall in love with him. But now that he had, he couldn’t imagine himself without this feeling

‘Is this-?’ His dad asked, his voice taking on an edge of panic.

‘No, no.’ Stiles swallowed around a lump in his throat, ‘It’s not a panic attack. I’m just- I’m just overwhelmed, I guess.’

‘Love can do that.’ His dad said. He took the space next to Stiles and leant against the wall, staring at the staircase in front of them.

They stayed like that for a few minutes while Stiles calmed down. It was something the Stilinski men were good at. Silence. They’d had nearly a year of it when Stiles’ mom died. Only at home, though. Stiles found he could never make himself silent anywhere else.

His breathing had evened out by the time his dad spoke again.

‘When I first met your mom, she hated me.’ He said. Stiles looked at him in shock. They didn’t really talk about her, at least not candidly. There were wistful mentions, or a few stories from photo albums on anniversaries, but his dad had never brought her up unprompted before, ‘We would argue all the time. I was a fresh deputy, only in my first month, I think.’

‘I can’t imagine you guys arguing.’ Stiles said quietly. His dad smiled softly, an edge of sadness to the tilt of his mouth.

‘I’d been sent to check out a noise complaint. She was at a friend’s house for a barbeque, and one of the neighbours called to say they were being too loud. Claudia was very- uh- vocal about her disagreement.’ He played with the ring on his finger, spinning it slowly, ‘I wasn’t sure whether to arrest her for speaking to a deputy like that, or leave out of fear.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I left.’ His dad laughed, ‘She scared me, really. We kept bumping into each other after that. Somehow, we got into arguments about everything, from films and music, to the state of the world, to what I was wearing.’

‘You do have bad fashion taste.’ Stiles pointed out, and his dad bumped their shoulders together.

‘ _Anyway,’_ He said slowly, ‘We didn’t realise for a long time that we were arguing just so we could get each other’s attention. That was always what it was about. We disagreed, sure, but we wound each other up so much because there was _want_ behind it.’

Stiles pursed his lips, staring at his hands. He knew where this was going. It was his dad’s way of giving him his blessing. He wasn’t sure he wanted it or deserved it.

‘You remind me of her.’ His dad put a hand on his knee, shaking it slightly, ‘All the time. Now, I’m not saying I’m like Derek, but you see what I’m getting at, here.’

‘Yeah.’ Stiles breathed.

‘When you fight, it means you care.’

Stiles screwed his eyes shut. He could feel the lump in his throat growing.

‘We’re not like you and mom, dad.’ He said, almost pleading, ‘Me and Derek aren’t like that. He doesn’t care about me in that way.’

‘Kid,’ His dad laughed slightly, ‘That man looks at you like he couldn’t imagine life without you in it. Trust me, I know these things.’

‘Dad-’ Stiles started, but the Sheriff held a hand up and pushed himself to his feet.

‘You think about it.’ He said, ‘I’m going to go to have another beer and watch a game I have recorded, and you’re going to watch _You’ve Got Mail_ and think about Derek. I’ll see you in the morning.’

All Stiles could do was nod in response.

 _God,_ when did his dad get so wise?

He was still reeling from the conversation with his dad when he got to his room. Was he right? Did Derek feel something too? He hoped this was one of the days that he’d zone out during the film. He had a lot to figure out.

He was so shocked, so distracted, that he didn’t notice the smell.

What he did notice, though, was when he took a step into the dark and his foot came away sticky and warm. He scrambled for the light and stared down at his sock. It was covered in a grey, jelly-like goo.

‘No.’ Stiles whispered. He inhaled through his nose and nearly threw up. Then he heard the rattling screech.

There, in the corner of his room, crouched over his desk and dripping all over his homework, was the wendigo, in all its disgusting glory.

It was really living up to its ‘moving silently’ reputation.

‘Dad!’ Stiles shouted, already backing out of the room, ‘RUN!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro... this got deeper than i thought it would
> 
> hopefully it was still a little funny though?????
> 
> more funtimes i promise


	5. I Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a longer one folks
> 
> very plot heavy and i hate plot so........ i also made sure it had so much dialogue you may drown in it

Stiles ran. His sock made a horrible squelching sound with each step he took and slipped out from under him on the stairs. He rocked down to the bottom on his ass then shot to his feet and skidded into the kitchen.

‘Dad!’ He shouted while he routed through the cupboards. There was no use being quiet, the thing knew where he was. He looked over his shoulder and saw a hulking shadow at the bottom of the stairs, ‘Shit, shit, shit. Dad!’

‘Kid.’ His dad suddenly appeared in the archway to the kitchen. He had his gun trained on the shadow and sweat lining his forehead, ‘Will this do anything?’

‘Probably not.’ Stiles really needed to write down where he left his shit. Or he should probably put all of it in the same place, ‘It might slow it down though.’

‘I’d really rather not use my firearm within earshot of the neighbours if I can help it.’

‘Just-’ Stiles sliced a hand through the air- ‘wait.’

‘It’s just staring at me.’ His dad said. Stiles tried to remember the last time he’d had his mountain ash. It was a few weeks ago. A Sunday, maybe. Stiles smacked his lips as he had the memory of tasting peanut butter. Where did they keep the peanut butter?

‘Maybe it thinks you’re pretty.’ He remarked as he swung the cupboard next to the fridge open, ‘Ah ha! Back yard!’

Stiles dashed for the back door and his dad followed. He ran onto the grass and poured some mountain ash into his hand. He grasped it when some sprinkled onto the floor and beckoned his dad closer with his elbow.

They stood face to face as Stiles took a few deep breaths.

‘What’s that?’ His dad asked.

‘Watch this.’ Stiles said, smirking. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist harder, ‘Come on.’ He whispered, then threw his hand into the air and scattered the ash.

He imagined a barrier around them, pictured it strong and complete, more mountain ash in it than he had in his hand. He’d only used it once, back at the club, a long time ago now. He hoped the spark Deaton saw in him would work now.

‘Woah.’ His dad said. Stiles opened his eyes to see a tight circle of ash around them.

‘Yes!’ Stiles pumped his fist, ‘Did I ever tell you I’m magic?’

‘Not in so many words.’

There was a loud vibrating sound next to them, the same sound Stiles imagined a washing machine full of slushy intestines would make. Disgusting, and wet.

They both watched as the Wendigo squished out the backdoor and sloped towards them, its blunt teeth bared.

Stiles screwed on the lid of the jar and grasped it in one hand, gripping his dad’s arm with the other.

‘This circle will keep it out?’

‘In theory.’ Stiles shrugged. Deaton only had a barrier of rowan wood in his clinic, so surely it worked on everything. The guy probably didn’t just need protection against shapeshifters.

The Wendigo prowled around them in a circle. It edged closer with each step. A long finger reached out across the floor and pushed against the barrier. It didn’t break through, but it didn’t get zapped away like Stiles was sure it was meant to.

He felt a surge of panic rise in his throat and closed his eyes. The barrier around them wasn’t just ash. Now it was a wall. It towered above them, totally impenetrable. He willed it to protect them with all his might, his head swimming with determination.

‘I’m gonna need you to hold me up.’ Stiles muttered, feeling his knees weaken.

He didn’t let his concentration waver, immediately leaning into his dad when he put his arms around him.

He added layer upon mental layer to the wall, urging it to surround them, to keep them safe. There was no way they were going to die right now. No way in Hell. Stiles could keep the barrier up. He had to.

Time blurred, and just as Stiles’ eyes started to roll into the back of his head, there was a mighty roar from the direction of the house.

‘Shit.’ The Sheriff said, his arms tightening. Stiles couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes.

He heard the Wendigo screech, and another roar came from the trees by the backyard fence. There was almost a harmonic symphony to all the creatures roaring at each other.

 _I’m gonna pass out now,_ Stiles wanted to say, but what came out was more like, ‘Mmmm-pah.’

*

Stiles spent the next 13 hours sleeping. He woke up to Scott in his room, sat on his bed staring at the opposite wall like it’d give him the answers he was looking for. Half of Stiles had hoped it would work. The other half knew the wall covered in string and pictures of Wendigos from folklore was about as much use as a flaccid dick.

Scott gave him the rundown of what happened, which wasn’t much. Apparently, the Wendigo wanted an easy kill, not expecting the mountain ash, or pair of werewolves. It ran basically immediately after Stiles passed out.

It also only took about 10 minutes after Stiles woke up for Scott to go from sympathetic and concerned, to indignant.

‘That’s a terrible idea.’ Scott crossed his arms, full Alpha face. Infuriatingly adorable _and_ commanding at the same time.

‘It’s the best idea we have.’ Stiles shoved his pillow behind his back leaned against his headboard. Across the room, Scott’s face went through the five stages of grief, ‘You know, it’s been a while since it’s killed someone. It’s only a matter of time until it does.’

‘But-’

‘And we know it’s connected to the Nemeton, and clearly came after me for a reason. Maybe it recognised me from the preserve, or _my_ connection to the Nemeton, or because the wind blew it, I don’t know.’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘It’s also a _ll we have.’_

‘I thought you hated being bait.’ Scott pointed out, but his face was firmly in the acceptance stage. The guy wasn’t hard to convince. It was a skill Stiles had perfected over the years. He managed to convince him to go look for a dead body, after all.

‘I thought I hated a lot of things.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Scott smirked. He stood and looked toward the window, ‘You can come in now, Derek. I’m heading out.’

‘He’s out there?’ Stiles would deny nearly breaking his neck to try look out the window later. For now, though, he flipped his head to see if Derek was visible on the small patch of roof outside.

‘He never left.’ Scott’s smile was blinding. The smug bastard, ‘Don’t exert too much energy.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Stiles threw a pillow at Scott’s retreating back.

There was no other way to describe the look on Derek’s face when he climbed in other than downright _sullen._ He looked like a literal kicked puppy. Whether it was because his stealth skills weren’t as good as he thought they were, or because the Wendigo turned up, there was no way of knowing.

He looked around the room before sitting down on the desk chair and swaying it idly side to side. Stiles raised his eyebrows at his sulky form. His shoulders were hunched basically up to his shoulders.

‘We back to non-verbal communication, bud?’ Stiles hugged his knees up to his chest, ‘Thought we were past that. You know, we’ve had a lot of actual conversations. I never realised how good your voice sounds.’

‘I thought you were amazing at reading people.’ Derek pointed out sarcastically, ‘Can’t you tell what I’m thinking?’

‘I can bet it’s not a happy thought,’ Stiles responded, ‘If my boy Peter came in here, you would _not_ be flying away to neverland.’

‘Damn.’ Derek tutted, ‘Here’s me, thinking I could go there and find a kindred spirit in Captain Hook.’

‘Oh, so you’re aware of your grumpy branding, huh?’ Stiles grinned, ‘I think Hook is a little too expressive to be completely kindred.’

‘I can learn.’ Derek shrugged. He smiled slightly, then looked at his feet again, ‘So, you want to be bait.’

‘Here we go.’ Stiles rolled his head back, ‘Bring on the lecture. Oh, no, not lecture. That’s too many words for you.’

‘I can use words.’ Derek crossed his arms petulantly.

‘There were a good four.’

‘Why were you so determined to convince Scott to let you do it?’

‘I want to be useful.’ Stiles answered, ‘Why do you care, anyway? You’re always the first to throw yourself into danger, why can’t I?’

‘You yell at me for doing that.’ Derek’s frown deepened. He curled his hands into fists against his jeans. If he wasn’t being contrary, Stiles would’ve said it was endearing.

‘Yeah, because you’re being self-sacrificing for no good reason. I’m just luring the thing to somewhere we can take care of it. I’m not wishing death upon myself.’ Stiles snapped. He watched as Derek’s mouth twisted around what were probably harsh words.

‘You might be.’

‘My God, Derek, do you really think I’m that pathetic?’

‘Stiles-’

‘Poor little human Stiles can’t do anything? You barely let me do my job back at the preserve, you tried to make me _run_ at the first sign of danger, and now you’re saying I can’t even do _this?’_

‘That’s not what this is about!’ Derek suddenly stood up, pointing an accusing finger that Stiles wanted to snap off.

‘Don’t stand up when I can’t do it too!’ Stiles shouted, ‘You know damn well I’ll fall on my ass!’

‘Because you were reckless!’

‘Oh, my God.’ Stiles gaped, ‘You think I should’ve done nothing and let that thing eat me and my dad?’

‘You could’ve called.’ Derek said petulantly.

‘Called?’ Stiles laughed humourlessly, ‘I could have _called?_ It was in my bedroom. I had to protect myself. I didn’t know if you were miles away. You’re not going to be my first fucking call, Derek. I can do _some_ things myself.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘What?’

‘I wasn’t far.’ Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, ‘I was down the road. I hadn’t even got in my car yet.’

Just like that, from the guilt in Derek’s voice, Stiles suddenly knew what this was really about. He closed his eyes as all his anger and indignation rushed out of him in a single breath.

‘It moves silently. That’s the whole point.’ Stiles ached to reach out, to grab Derek’s shaking hands and press his lips against them until they stilled, ‘You couldn’t have known it was there.’

‘I should have.’ Derek slumped down on the end of the bed, ‘I couldn’t save Erica, or Boyd. I’ve lost-’ He cut off, his expression shutting down. The end of the sentence wouldn’t come. Stiles knew that.

‘You’re not going to lose me.’ Stiles read between the lines, ‘You’ve got to trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.’

Derek looked at him. Right through him. Stiles was sure he’d never get used to it. The room was so quiet, Stiles could hear his dad whistling in the kitchen. He could hear a car go by outside. There weren’t any birds tweeting, since it was dark out, but if they were, Stiles was sure he’d hear them.

‘You look like shit.’ Derek said eventually.

‘Excuse me?’ Stiles blinked at the change of pace. Usually it was him who broke the tension, but Derek doing it was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen. There was laughter in his eyes. It was a sparkle Stiles wished was permanent.

‘Your eyes.’ Derek pointed at them, like Stiles didn’t know where they were, ‘They’re all bloodshot. And the dark circles.’ He blew out a breath, shaking his head.

‘Fuck you.’ Stiles laughed, ‘I still look great.’

‘You look tired.’ Derek corrected.

‘I just had a 13-hour power nap, baby, I’m wide awake.’ He shuffled over to Derek, so he was sat on his heels facing the man’s shoulder, ‘I’m gonna do that hugging thing again, if that’s okay.’

Derek simply held out his arm and Stiles fell into him, wrapping himself thoroughly around the man’s torso, awkwardly half lifted off his heels, his nose in the crook of his neck.

‘You smell really good.’ Stiles murmured before he could stop himself. He felt Derek’s chest move with a huffed laugh.

‘I can send you the link to my cologne.’ Derek’s voice was so earnest that it made Stiles laugh again.

No matter how awkwardly positioned the hug was, Stiles knew it would give him a bigger recharge than the long sleep he’d just woken up from. Derek was a portable battery Stiles wanted to keep in his pocket and take everywhere.

‘What?’ Derek asked when Stiles started laughing again. He pulled away from the hug and put on his confused eyebrows.

‘Nothing.’ Stiles couldn’t wipe the lovesick smile off his face, ‘I’m just really glad you’re here.’

‘Because I smell good?’ Derek smirked.

‘Asshole.’

*

One thing Stiles never understood, and was sure he never would, was why they did every confrontation at night.

This part of the preserve was always empty, day or night, so why was Stiles here, walking towards the Nemeton, ‘Amplify’ jar in his pocket and panic in his chest, at night?

If it were during the day, then Stiles would see every branch on the floor. He might not trip up over half of them. That weird noise that came from his right a few paces back; Stiles would’ve been able to see what it was.

Night-time was _bad time._

‘God, Derek was right.’ Stiles stomped through the underbrush, ‘I’m going to get myself killed.’

Wherever Derek was, lying in wait, he was probably saying ‘ _damn right’._

‘There you are.’ Stiles lifted his foot to kick one of the large roots of the Nemeton, then thought better of it and put it down again. It was bigger than he remembered, ‘Now or never.’

Stiles stepped up onto the large stump and walked over the cracks to the middle. He stared down at all the age rings spanning out across the whole surface. God knows how old the thing was. Stiles wondered what it looked like before it was felled.

The plan was simple, really.

Stiles had found a while ago that the way to kill a Wendigo was fire. Lots and lots of fire. Stiles wasn’t sure if the fact that it was warped by the Nemeton would make a difference. He hoped not.

All Stiles had to do was wait on the large, magical tree stump, and try and think delicious thoughts. With any luck, the Wendigo would come running, be set on fire by some of Lydia’s Molotov cocktails, Allison’s explosive arrows, and Stiles’ cutting wit.

Of course, that wasn’t how it went at all.

‘It’s here!’ Stiles yelled after a half hour of waiting, as the creature became visible through the trees, its flesh rolling around its body like it wasn’t even attached ‘Guys! WENDIGO ALERT!’

The pack didn’t appear fast enough, and Stiles was picked up and thrown against a tree with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Once he got his breath back, he was sure his ribs were cracked too.

The Wendigo shook. It prowled closer to where Stiles was sprawled. He tried to scramble back but it was no use. The thing was so close Stiles choked on the smell.

‘Shit.’ Stiles breathed, then he heard a loud whistling sound, and there was an explosion on the Wendigo’s side. It screeched as fire spread up its side. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see her, Stiles looked in the direction the arrow came from.

Derek, Scott, and Isaac sprinted in from the surrounding trees and started slashing blindly at the large body. It fell back onto the Nemeton with a scream and a squelch, and another arrow hit it in the head.

Stiles stared at the sky. The action blurred into the background while he tried to get his breath back.

‘Stiles.’ Lydia appeared above him, her hair stroking over his cheek, ‘For God’s sake, Stiles, don’t pass out.’

‘Mm’not gonna.’ Stiles groaned, pulling himself to sit, ‘Gimme.’

Lydia handed him one of the bottles and helped him to his feet. They both chucked theirs and they landed true, exploding more fires on the creature.

On the other side of the clearing, Isaac was down, three long scratches down his face. Stiles threw another bottle.

‘It’s not slowing down.’ Lydia pointed out as the thing threw Derek 20 metres, ‘Why isn’t it slowing down?’

‘It’s screwed up because of the Nemeton.’ Stiles yelled over the sound of fire and screams, ‘Maybe fire doesn’t kill it.’

‘Then what the hell does?’

Stiles threw his last bottle and watched as the creature writhed but didn’t go down. Despite having just been thrown miles away, Derek was back on his feet and jumping on the creature’s back, the only spot with no fire.

‘Derek!’ Stiles yelled as the Wendigo reared back, clawing at the werewolf.

‘Stiles.’ Lydia said warily, ‘What do we do?’

‘Why’re you asking me?!’

‘Because you always have a plan!’ Lydia had tears in her eyes, which just wouldn’t do. Stiles tried to think. He mentally flipped through all his knowledge on Wendigos, on the Nemeton, hoping something would come up that would work. Something _helpful._

‘There’s nothing but fire.’ Stiles said, ‘Oh, oh!’

He reached into his pocket for the jar from Deaton and uncorked it with his teeth.

‘Dear God, please work.’ He said, throwing the jar with everything he had, ignoring the pain in his ribs, ‘Fire in the hole!’

The jar and all its contents landed on the Wendigo’s chest, and Stiles pictured the fire roaring to life, enveloping the whole creature and burning to its core.

‘Derek!’ Scott yelled, and Stiles watched as Derek aptly leapt off the Wendigo and landed on his back a few feet away. He watched the fire blaze with wide eyes.

‘This is about the get real!’ Stiles laughed. He concentrated on the flames. They flickered from green, to yellow, to purple, back to orange. It was beautiful, in a horrific kind of way.

Everyone stood and watched in awe as the fire swirled and the Wendigo’s long arms reached into the air, clawing at it like it would escape. It only took seconds for it to be reduced to ashes.

As the last embers flickered out, Stiles saw Lydia wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

‘Wow.’ Allison suddenly appeared from the shadows, ‘My arrows didn’t do that.’

‘I did.’ Stiles said proudly, he directed his smug smile to Derek, who was still on the ground across the clearing, ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’

‘Sure.’ Derek grunted. He attempted to get up but fell back down with a gasp of pain. All of them ran to his side, Scott getting there first and helping him up with an arm under his shoulders.

‘Jesus, dude, he really got you, huh?’ Scott observed, looking over Derek’s shoulder at his back. Stiles ran around them to get a look.

‘Oh, my God.’

‘That’s nasty.’ Allison observed, also looking at the huge claw marks leaking blood through Derek’s jacket.

‘No shit.’ Derek snarled.

Stiles hovered his hands uselessly over the wounds. Guilt gathered in his throat. He was so busy being cocky over killing the Wendigo that he hadn’t even thought about checking anyone for injuries.

‘Get to Deaton’s.’ Stiles voice didn’t break, but it was a close thing, ‘Me and Isaac will get a ride with Lydia, you two go with Allison.’

Despite the instructions being perfectly clear, thank you very much, everyone still looked to Scott for confirmation.

‘What he said.’ Scott nodded.

_Damn right._

*

‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’ Stiles said to the form on the metal table. Everyone else had filed out to lick their wounds, but he couldn’t leave. Not when Derek was still unconscious. Someone had to stay, anyway. As much as Deaton had been a help, he wasn’t completely trustworthy. Stiles still had a funny feeling about him.

‘I don’t know why you’re an idiot.’ Stiles sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, really. You did what we all did. Isaac healed by the time we got here. Only you would be dramatic enough to need medical attention. I just wish you weren’t always the one who got hurt.’ He stared at Derek’s pale, bare chest, just so he could see the rise and fall, ‘I’m sick of thinking about what life would be like without you. I don’t want to have to- to even consider it. It’s not fair.’

Derek, of course, didn’t respond. He made a small snuffling noise that made Stiles’ heart clench.

‘I don’t want you to die.’ Stiles continued. Even if Derek wouldn’t hear it, talking helped. He reasoned better aloud, ‘Ever. I remember you said we were only keeping each other alive because we needed each other. I hope that’s not true anymore. Or, at least, not in the same way. I definitely don’t just want you alive for my own gain. Despite the delicious eye-candy you provide.’

He slouched down in the chair and put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from flailing. Talking to someone unconscious was one thing but waving your hands like a mad man was another.

‘It’s infuriating how hot you look even unconscious, you know.’ Stiles observed, feeling safe in Derek’s current state, ‘I mean, who looks good asleep? While _injured?_ When I’m asleep I always have my mouth wide open and my butt up in the air. I never stopped sleeping like a toddler, I guess. Not that you care.’ He stood, walking to the edge of the table. Derek’s forehead was clammy when Stiles brushed some of his wet hair away from it, ‘You better wake up soon, so you can tell me to shut up. I don’t know what I’ll turn into without someone like you to keep me humble. I can’t go unchecked, Derek. You know what a nightmare that’ll be for everyone who comes into contact with me.’

A small breath came from Derek’s slightly agape mouth. Stiles took it as a sound of irritation and found himself huffing a weak laugh.

‘We could die any day, you know.’ Stiles pointed out, ‘I was aware of that before, in case you think I’ve been oblivious this whole time. I just- I guess I hadn’t had to think about it since realising that I- well.’ He cleared his throat, ‘It’d be so easy to say it to you right now, right? You can’t hear me. Even if you could I’m sure you’d never mention it again out of mortification that the weedy teenager you barely tolerate lo-’

Even here, even with no one to judge him and no consequences for it, Stiles couldn’t say it. Not with Derek’s face right there.

He could never say it. The times he’d been interrupted weren’t near misses, not really. Stiles would’ve stopped himself. The words almost seemed not enough. And yet they were still too much to say aloud.

‘Jeez.’ Stiles wiped his sleeve under his nose, sniffing, ‘I get thoughtful when I’m alone. Someone needs to talk to me or I’m going to go insane.’

Derek stayed silent.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’ Stiles stared down at his still face, wondered how long it’d be before he saw it smile again, ‘You’re so pretty. It’s actually gross.’

He laughed again.

‘No, it isn’t.’ He rested his hand on Derek’s forehead, ‘If there’s anything you’re not, it’s gross. You’re so many things Derek. I swear I learn something new about you every day. Like, you have a sense of humour! Who knew?’ Stiles hummed in thought, ‘A lot of people, probably. I guess it’s taken a while for you to unlearn how to constantly blend in, huh? From so much running. But you get to be yourself now. It’s amazing to see.’

The skin under Stiles’ hand was cold. If he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, he’d panic that Derek was long gone. He stared at the movement.

‘My dad sends you well wishes, by the way.’ Stiles pursed his lips, ‘I think he’s rooting for me more than I am, not that you know what that means. Maybe I’ll explain it to you when you wake up.’ He ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, ‘I should definitely tell you.’

Saying it, Stiles realised how true it was. With death looming over them all every day, he knew he’d never forgive himself if one of them got killed before he’d said it. Derek couldn’t die without knowing it. Stiles couldn’t die without telling him. Scott probably wouldn’t want to die before seeing how it turned out.

‘I’ll tell you.’ He said resolutely, ‘I swear. When you wake up, I’ll tell you that I- you know.’

It was a promise to no-one, really. Derek couldn’t hear him. No one was here to witness the promise being made. Stiles could leave the clinic and forget about it.

Maybe he would.

Maybe he’d pretend this never happened, that he’d never looked at Derek’s face and hated himself for not saying it a day sooner.

Or, maybe he’d tell him.

Stiles would tell Derek he loved him.

‘I will.’ He pressed a chaste kiss to Derek’s forehead, ‘I will.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will he wont he. stiles make up ur goddamn mind jeez
> 
> i'll be honest, i prefer the banterous moments to the tender ones, but they always sneak up on me
> 
> will i ever escape?


	6. The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah.... this is it
> 
> i hope its as satisfying as you deserve

‘So, Derek. That’s it. I love you,’ Stiles let out a shaky breath, his heart hammering a rapid beat into his bruised ribs, ‘I don’t know when it happened, and God, I couldn’t explain why it did. But it’s there,’ He ran a hand over his hair, still wet from his shower, ‘I can’t stop it. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t _expect_ anything. I just needed to say it.’

He stared, then stared for a moment longer, but his reflection didn’t reply. He swiped a finger through the condensation. The small part of his face that became clearer looked grave. Sweaty. Is this what he would look like when confessing?

‘Derek,’ Stiles tried again, puffing his chest out and holding his head proudly high, ‘You’re my squish. My boo. My one and only.’

He closed his eyes.

‘Why is this so hard?’ He pled with the ceiling, ‘Come on, Stiles.’ He shook his limbs out, hopping from foot to foot like he was preparing to run a mile, the towel slipping dangerously down his hips, ‘It’s just Derek. You know Derek. You _trust_ Derek. How difficult can it be? Just tell him.’

This wasn’t the first rehearsal. Every time Stiles had caught his reflection recently, he tried his luck. He’d said it point blank, made up a beautiful speech, tried it in Spanish, even. Every version ended with a grimace. He could just imagine Derek’s face at the attempts.

It had been a week since he had promised now. A week since he’d left the clinic in the morning, when Deaton came in to start his day.

6 days since he’d received a text from Scott telling him Derek was up. 6 days since he’d refused to go and see him.

See, not only had Stiles promised Derek’s unconscious body that he’d confess, he’d also promised himself he’d do it the next time he saw the guy.

_Mistake._

It meant that all he’d been doing was avoiding every interaction. It was the week after _The Realisation_ all over again. How did anyone think he was brave?

Apparently, this evening had been Scott’s breaking point because his texts had been getting progressively more aggressive.

**_Scotty Boy_ **

_Dude he looks so sad every time I see him DO SMTH_

**_Scotty Boy_ **

_You promised yourself!!!!! Go get it stiles!!!!!_

**_Scotty Boy_ **

_oh my god if you don’t reply to these messages I will SKYWRITE THEM_

**_Scotty Boy_ **

_YOU WOULD BE SO GOOD TOGETHER TELL HIM TELL HIM TELL HIM_

**_Scotty Boy_ **

_I’m going to kill you in your sleep._

Stiles finally replied to the last one. It was just a thumbs up emoji, but it had stopped the barrage for a little while.

He’d taken a shower to clear his head, and now here he was.

‘Derek.’ Stiles said, pursing his lips, ‘You, pretty. Me, horny.’ He slapped his hands over his face, ‘No, no, no, you idiot, he’s not an object.’

The door suddenly opened and Stiles damn near leapt onto the counter with a full-bodied yelp.

‘Right.’ His dad looked him up and down, ‘The shower’s been off for a while, kid, and you’re still in here.’

‘And?’ Stiles crossed his arms over his bare chest defensively, cupping his armpits like his nipples were inappropriate to see.

‘I was worried you’d brained yourself on the sink.’ His dad stated plainly. He opened the door a little wider, leaning in with one hand on the frame and one on the handle, ‘Are you okay? I could hear you chatting to yourself.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You just hurt your ribs, right? Not your head?’

‘No, dad.’ Stiles rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. The bruises weren’t that bad, really. The worst one was almost gone, just a yellowy green patch under his left pec. He glanced at it in the mirror. It was pretty cool looking actually. Stiles would miss Harriet.

Yes, Stiles named his bruise. And what?

‘I’m heading to the station now.’ The Sherriff spoke slowly, like Stiles would have trouble understanding, ‘Make sure you eat before bed.’

‘I know how to look after myself.’ Stiles rolled his eyes, ‘Can of Spam and two fingers of whiskey should do me.’

All he got was a baleful look in response. Not even a chuckle. Tough crowd.

‘Don’t forget the advil is in the second drawer.’ His dad said in lieu of a goodbye.

‘You shouldn’t be encouraging me to take drugs!’ Stiles shouted after him, ‘I’m a minor, and have an addictive personality, and- he’s gone.’ He sighed, and caught his own eye in the mirror, ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

He glared at his reflection for a moment, pondering if there were such a thing as a mirror monster, if the Stiles staring back at him was out to get him.

The door was only a foot away.

Stiles took a long step and grabbed the handle, keeping eye contact with himself the whole time.

‘I’m watching you.’ Stiles warned, put two fingers from his eyes to the mirror, then slammed out of the room.

*

The halls were bustling with people eager to get out of school for the weekend. One particularly large guy that reminded Stiles of Boyd barged past his shoulder. Boyd would never do that to him. The guy was ruining Stiles’ memory of him. Well, he wasn’t, but Stiles was feeling dramatic.

‘I’m telling you, Scott.’ Stiles clung to his backpack, his shoulder being shoved by yet another freshman, ‘It’s like I’m cursed. Everything comes out jumbled and fucked up.’

‘That’s because you’re saying it to you.’ Scott offered, ‘If you say it to him, it’ll all fall into place.’

‘How romantic of you.’ Stiles rolled his eyes. They reached their lockers and he threw his open, finding satisfaction in the clang of it hitting the one next to it, then shoved his books back in, ‘This isn’t a movie. If I fuck it up, he won’t want anything to do with me.’

‘So, if he came up to you, and confessed to you like, I don’t know.’ Scott leant against his own locker after shutting it and pulled his face into an overdramatic frown, ‘ _Stiles, you cute, me like your face and moles._ That you’d just reject him based on that?’

‘One,’ Stiles held up a finger, ‘That was a caveman impression, and I’m offended on Derek’s behalf. Two, of course I wouldn’t, I love him _and_ his social ineptitude.’

‘Then he wouldn’t reject _you_ , dude.’

‘Context, Scott. Derek isn’t in love with me.’

‘Or so you think.’ Scott waggled his eyebrows. Stiles shoved his face and headed for the front doors.

‘Your endless faith in romance makes me sick.’

‘Someone needs to balance out your dark.’ Scott shrugged. They headed for his bike, but Stiles caught the sight of something beautiful out of the corner of his eye.

‘Roscoe!’ Stiles yelled, running across the parking lot to reach his beautiful jeep, ‘You’re good as new, you gorgeous lady.’

He ran his fingers over the bonnet, looking through the windscreen at the pristine backseats.

No claw marks.

The roof was no longer caved in, sat where it was supposed to be with a distinct lack of holes the size of Wendigo arms.

There used to be a dent in the passenger side door that wasn’t there anymore. The blue all around the jeep was more vibrant too. It was like a new car.

But when Stiles climbed in and settled into the driver’s seat, it was unquestionably his car. He smooshed his ass into the seat. The moan he let out was downright indecent.

He grabbed the keys off the dash and a piece of paper fluttered into the air, landing underneath the pedals.

‘Dude!’ Scott appeared at the window where Stiles was sat, his grin blinding, ‘She looks so _good.’_

‘I know!’ Stiles ran his hands over the steering wheel. He’d never take this jeep for granted again. If he loved her before, he was _in_ love with her now, ‘Derek’s a magician.’

‘Derek did this?’ Isaac appeared at the other window like a silent devil and raised an eyebrow, ‘Interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ Stiles jutted his chin out, ‘Explain yourself, orphan.’

‘Really?’ Isaac said, at the same time as Scott saying ‘Dude.’

‘Too soon?’ Stiles asked unapologetically. He received two disappointed looks in response.

‘It’s just that Derek isn’t much of a gesture person.’ Isaac looked over the car appreciatively, ‘He’s never done anything like this for me. Not for free, anyway.’

‘Maybe this is a bill.’ Stiles offered, reaching under the dash for the paper that slipped down there. He unfolded it and read the message.

_I said I’d sort it._

_-D_

‘He _loooves_ you.’ Scott smirked, clearly having read the note over Stiles’ shoulder, ‘He wants to _kiiisss_ you.’

‘Shut up.’ Stiles scoffed.

‘As much as I hate to say it,’ Isaac grimaced, ‘He’s right. Derek doesn’t just do things to be nice.’

‘Maybe he’s changed.’ Stiles argued weakly.

No one replied because that wasn’t really a possibility. Even before the fire, Derek wasn’t a kind, giving person. He had been a sarcastic prick his whole life. Stiles’ dad had told him as much.

Turns out the Hale family got a lot of complaints, the town making calls constantly to send patrol cars out to their house. Apparently, Derek’s responses had always been far from respectful when he’d been the one to answer the door.

‘Oh, God.’ Stiles clutched the note in one hand, rubbing his faced with the other, letting out one continuous groan.

‘What’s happening now?’ Isaac asked.

‘He’s realising he has to go to the loft and tell Derek he loves him.’

‘Oh, _God.’_ Stiles groaned louder. His life _sucked._ He didn’t even have a speech prepared!

‘Good luck, dude.’ Scott patted his shoulder encouragingly. He looked pleased as punch. Stiles didn’t even have it in him to put him down, or retort.

All those rehearsals, all those aborted attempts. Stiles looked back on them longingly in his mind. How lucky past Stiles was to not have to do the real thing.

‘Don’t fuck it up.’ Isaac said, smarmy grin in place, and as much as Stiles wanted to call him an orphan again, all he could do was groan for a third time and start the engine.

*

The door to the loft was open when Stiles reached it. He’d been following the momentum of his usual visits on autopilot to the point that he raised his hand to knock. He attempted to play it off like he’d been stretching, throwing a wide yawn in for good measure.

‘Dear God.’ He groaned when he registered what was going on before him.

Derek had shoved the couch back a few paces, the table the other way, and was throwing himself so hard into his push ups Stiles was surprised he wasn’t face-punching the ground.

The control.

The precision.

The _back muscles._

He cleared his throat to get Derek’s attention. The guy stopped mid push up and looked up. There was sweat beading his forehead. Stiles pushed his lips together. _No comment._

‘Stiles.’ Derek said in greeting. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his discarded t shirt from the sofa. A shout of protest nearly escaped Stiles’ throat before he realised Derek was just using it to wipe his face, making no moves to put it back on.

‘Derek.’ He replied, ‘I just came to say thank you. For the car.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Derek hadn’t moved from by the couch, and Stiles hadn’t moved from the doorway. They stared at each other in silence, ‘Anything else? I feel like you could’ve texted that.’

Stiles nodded rapidly, ‘Probably.’

‘So?’ Derek raised his eyebrows.

‘Uh-’ Stiles shuffled his feet, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. What were words? The English language. It was in there somewhere. There were definitely sentences, and exclamation marks- ‘uhm.’

‘Eloquent.’ Derek remarked. He threw his shirt back down and Stiles didn’t think it was too dramatic to say he _stormed_ to the table by the window.

Stiles followed.

There was an old leather-bound book in the middle of it. It had gold flaking off the spine, and a title carved into the front, totally unreadable. Stiles had to physically stop himself from picking it up and sniffing it. He _loved_ old book smell.

‘Book?’ Was all Stiles could come up with when he wanted to ask, _what is this book called? Where did you get it? What’s it about? Can I sniff it?_

‘I got it for you.’ Derek’s eyes fell to the table. He tapped two fingers against it, looking suddenly bashful, ‘Me and Laura stayed with a pack for a while on the border of Illinois, and they have this huge library.’

‘You got a book for me?’ Stiles touched the cover with a delicacy he didn’t know he possessed. He ran his fingers over the illegible words. It may have been his imagination that there was static between his skin and the leather.

‘It’s about magic.’ Derek explained, his gaze out the window. It was tempting to jump up and down to get his attention, to get eye contact, ‘You can do a lot more than you give yourself credit for. I think you’d be better at being your own teacher than Deaton would.’

‘Huh.’ Stiles couldn’t help but smile, watching as Derek’s eyes moved to the floor. It was like he was avoiding looking at him, ‘How did you get it?’

‘Money.’ Derek frowned, ‘A lot of it, actually.’

‘So,’ Stiles smirked slowly, ‘You fixed my car, free of charge. You contacted a pack who knew you before you came back here, and paid ‘a lot’ of money to get me a book on magic? Because, what? You believe in me?’

‘You could be powerful.’ Derek shrugged, ‘That’s all I’m saying.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Stiles grinned, the realisation settling in his stomach, giving him goosepimples, ‘You love me.’

‘What?’ Derek’s eyes shot up and finally met Stiles’, wide and under a forehead probably sweatier than when he’d been working out, ‘No I don’t.’

‘You do.’ Stiles crowed victoriously, ‘You’re in love with me!’

Derek scoffed and strode to the couch, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. Of course, Stiles followed again, his crow turning into laughter.

‘Stop laughing!’ Derek yelled. He growled when Stiles continued to laugh and shoved past him, headed for the spiral staircase.

‘No! No.’ The situation wasn’t funny anymore, seeing the defeated hunch in Derek’s shoulders, ‘You don’t-’ Stiles stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, turning him so they were face to face, ‘I just- me too.’

The only response he got was some partially sad, partially confused eyebrows.

‘I-’ Stiles blinked, a lump forming in his throat. He trailed his fingers up Derek’s arm, running them under the hem of his sleeve, feeling the twitch of his skin.

One step, and they were nose to nose. Stiles looked from his hand to Derek’s face, blanched at the look there. Completely unguarded. If he thought he’d seen Derek vulnerable before, it was nothing like this.

Finally, the centre of the onion.

A giggle crept up his throat before he could stop it and Derek’s eyes started to shutter.

‘I love you.’

After saying it, Stiles felt the stress of the last few weeks flow through him and bleed into the floor. Derek closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Stiles’.

‘I love you.’ Stiles said again, stomach turning over in not an entirely unpleasant way, ‘I love your bad jokes, and that you try to make me laugh when I feel like shit. I love your courage, that you run into danger to save the people you care about, as self-sacrificing and misguided as it may be. I love your eyes, when they change every time I look at them. I love your arms, your chest, your eyebrows.’ Stiles laughed, felt Derek huff a breath too. He kept his eyes closed, ‘I fucking love you, Derek Hale. All of you.’

‘I might love you too.’ Derek whispered, and Stiles opened his eyes just to see the smile there, ‘Just a little.’

‘A little?’ Stiles butted his nose against Derek’s. The man in front of him ducked his head, and Stiles moved his hand from his arm to his neck, using his pinkie and ring finger to raise Derek’s head again.

‘More than a little.’ Derek’s whole face screamed _kiss me._

So, Stiles did.

It was soft, chaste, a promise to be gentle, from Stiles to Derek, from Derek to Stiles. So much damage between them and so many harsh words but there was no one Stiles trusted with his heart more than the idiotic lug that yelled at him for trespassing on his property.

‘Scott’s going to lose his shit.’ Stiles breathed into Derek’s mouth when they parted.

‘Don’t talk about Scott right now.’ Derek said, pulling Stiles closer and covering his mouth with his own before he could come out with a retort.

*

‘Yes, Dad.’ Stiles spoke loudly so his words would reach the phone in his passenger seat, ‘I know the rules. No funny business, no staying at his place, and texts every two hours to make sure I haven’t been savaged.’

 _‘You’re just watching movies, right?’_ His dad’s voice was tinny and distant, but the concern, and warning, in his voice was clear.

‘Yes.’ Stiles said, rolling his eyes, ‘Scott is going to be there too. Maybe Lydia if we’re really lucky.’

His dad just hummed in response.

‘Okay, dad!’ Stiles shouted, fumbling for the end call button, ‘Text you in two hours!’

_‘Don’t do-’_

‘-anything stupid.’ Stiles finished for him. He threw his phone back on the passenger seat, ‘You have no idea.’

It only took ten more minutes to get to the spot where Derek’s Toyota and Lydia’s car were parked. Stiles pulled up beside them and threw himself out the door.

He clambered into the back seat and reached for where he’d hidden his book under the backseat. The words on the front were still illegible, but now even more gold had flaked off the spine. It wasn’t like Stiles had even had it that long. The thing would probably fall apart before he’d even got to do anything with it.

It fit nicely under his hoodie, where any pages that fell out wouldn’t hit the ground.

The moon was nearly full. It was partially masked by dark grey clouds, but most of the sky was clear. Stiles wasn’t worried about rain. The spot he was headed for was shrouded by leaves. It may as well have been indoors.

‘You took your time.’ Lydia commented when he arrived. She had Derek’s jacket over her shoulders, clearly having underestimated the weather. The nights had become chillier recently.

‘My dad rang so I took a detour.’ Stiles looked Derek up and down appreciatively, ‘Hey baby, you single?’

‘Afraid not.’ Derek replied blandly.

‘Damn, whoever snapped you up must be super hot.’ He smirked when Derek looked to Lydia and back to him. The cogs whirring in his head were practically audible. The inner debate of whether to play along or shut it down.

‘He’s actually _super_ annoying.’ Derek replied eventually, crossing his arms, ‘I only like him for his body.’

‘Yeah, you do.’ Stiles grinned, handing the book over to Lydia.

She took it with reverence and hovered her fingers over the cover as if she were afraid to touch with intent. Her breaths were shallow.

‘This is ancient.’ She pondered aloud, ‘I’m talking, pre-America.’

‘Pre-America?’ Derek raised his eyebrows.

‘Pre-colonialised America.’ Lydia corrected primly.

Stiles threw his hoodie off and tossed it towards the surrounding trees and stepped towards the Nemeton. It was just as large as he remembered it, expansive and sort of terrifying.

There was no Wendigo to throw him off this time, though. He was the most powerful thing here.

He looked to Lydia, the banshee, and Derek, the former Alpha werewolf.

Okay, maybe not the most powerful, but certainly powerful in his own right.

The wood was almost soft beneath his feet when he made his way to the middle. He swore there were more rings spanning the surface than there were just over a week ago when he’d been here last.

‘Have you memorised it?’ Lydia asked, her eyes poring over the text on the page Stiles had bookmarked.

‘Yep.’ Stiles rubbed his hands together. He pictured his spark charging and sparking between his palms.

‘I’ll catch you if you fall.’ Derek moved around the stump to behind Stiles, one leg forward, ready to leap up if anything went wrong.

‘I know you will.’ Stiles winked. He nodded to Lydia, who put the book down in front of him, open on the right page, ‘You got it all?’ He asked her.

She pulled the little plastic baggies out of her skirt pocket and tilted her head.

‘Like I’d forget.’

A tissue stained with Allison’s lipstick. A curly blond hair from Isaac’s pillow. A baby tooth from Scott’s memory box. A small clipping of hair from the nape of Lydia’s neck. A drop of Derek’s blood on a piece of fabric.

Stiles didn’t need anything. He was placed right in the middle, offering his whole self.

‘You sure this is a good idea?’ Derek already had his arms out ready to catch him.

‘I never am. Scott might kill me for not telling him, but he’ll appreciate it in the end.’ Stiles smiled at him over his shoulder.

‘I’m talking about _you.’_ Derek’s eyes were wide and full of concern. Who knew he’d be such a worrier?

‘Flash those pretty eyes at me, beautiful, and I could create a storm strong enough to destroy a continent.’

‘Shut up.’ Derek snapped, but his eyes flickered blue for a second, giving him away.

‘Let’s get this started, shall we?’ Stiles clapped his hands together, feeling the spark at his fingertips.

It might’ve started with the radio crackling to life in Stiles’ dark bedroom, or maybe with Derek being too gorgeous for Stiles to resist complimenting him. It could’ve even started when Stiles convinced his best friend to go looking for half a dead body on a full moon.

Those times could have been where it started, but this certainly wasn’t the end.

**Author's Note:**

> rant at me on tumblr @girlsf0rgirls
> 
> let me know what you think kiddies
> 
> this is what SHOULD have happened.... in my world
> 
> also...................... acab


End file.
